


Vorare

by soldierwitch



Category: Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Animal Death, Canon Disabled Character, F/M, Gen, Minor Character Death, Murder, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Racism, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-04
Updated: 2018-01-08
Packaged: 2018-02-28 01:52:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 48,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2714573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soldierwitch/pseuds/soldierwitch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>President Snow gave Katniss one objective for the Victory Tour: convince him that she and Peeta are in love and no harm will come to her or her loved ones. The problem? She and Peeta aren't in love. Katniss doesn't know what they are but in love isn't it. Now she must contend with her mixed emotions on their complicated relationship and the rumbling in the Districts that is stoking a fire no one seems able to control. Katniss lit a spark that is liable to burn her and everything she cares about to the ground unless she can find a way to survive. But what is survival without the hope of a life that's your own instead of a lie you've been forced to live?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. All alone in this

**Author's Note:**

> So, I finally got the courage to write this fic that's been bouncing around in my brain for close to three years now. It was born from a want to spend more time on exploring the districts during the Victory Tour. One of the "privileges" the Victors have is to see Panem, and it's always struck me that Collins missed an opportunity to fully explore that allowance with Katniss and Peeta in Catching Fire. The Victory Tour is the first time either of them have ever stepped foot into places they've only seen briefly on tv and read about in Capitol sanctioned history books. It is quite literally a trip inadvertently dedicated to showing them their country and that's partly my focus for this fic. Vorare is about Katniss and Peeta. It's about them learning who they are to one another both in front of the camera and behind closed doors. But it's also about Panem, and about learning that the world is bigger than the fence that cages you in.
> 
> On another note it is really important to me that Peeta being an amputee is not forgotten in this fic. The loss of his leg and the addition of his prosthesis is an integral part of his character and part of his narrative that I want to explore. Currently I am looking for a beta who can help me check any ableism and/or ignorance I might display due to my lack of experience writing about physically disabled characters. Until then please let me know if I am in anyway perpetuating harmful stereotypes and tropes.
> 
> I'd like to thank my betas Shar [bluesravenboyss](http://bluesravenboyss.tumblr.com/) and Anna [gemmaworthington](http://gemmaworthington.tumblr.com/) for looking over this for me and giving great advice. 
> 
> And now...on to the fic!

_Prologue_

Katniss is greedy. Every inch of her skin wants Peeta. She wants to leave fingerprint evidence on the landscape of his body. To lay claim to him like a conqueror with the gentle hold of a lover.

She doesn’t like to think about it, but Katniss can’t help the itching powder sensation that bursts from her pores when he’s gone from her side. It is an irritant that she is yet to become accustomed to despite the months they spent apart and barely speaking. At night she wraps her limbs around Peeta like a cobra. Bites into his neck with blunt teeth and soothes the marks with her tongue. _You are mine_ , she thinks. It makes her insides feel close to the flame of a candle. Need is addictive and as heady as the feel of his fingers dragging down the length of her spine.  
  
Her hands find new reasons to touch him even when the cameras are switched off and stored in their cases. A slide across the nape of his neck as she fixes his collar, a press to his hip when trying to get by, a moment to toy with his once calloused fingers. It still isn't enough.  
  
In the dark, when everyone else is asleep, Katniss scrapes her nails down his back. Peeta explores the abyss of her mouth with his tongue. And it is simple. All it takes is the hesitant whisper of his name as it passes her lips and he is hers to ply like clay.  
  
Katniss burns her name into Peeta’s skin with every kiss across his topography. His body is not a new frontier, and yet she still finds new places to worship. Her need for him is maddening; it takes advantage of her weaknesses; it scalds. She does not like this feeling but it has become an extension of herself. An operating system that overrides her common sense and her ability to think. All she can do is feel. And so, she maps out the dips and ridges of his terrain. Memorizes the bumpy road of his ribs as her palm moves vertically up to his cheek, and pretends that she can pull him deep inside herself where no one else can touch him.

 

* * *

 

Her vision is filled with roses. White petals touched by water droplets gleam under the light, fragile and delicate. Harmless. Katniss stares. Her house is abuzz with reporters flitting to and fro , but with exception to the quick press button flash of their cameras, no one has really paused over President Snow's bouquet on the table.

One member of the press had called them fitting. “They’re quite charming,” he had said, a smirk coming to his face as his next words took shape. “Let’s not call them roses; let’s call them Everdeens.”

Effie had smiled but Katniss could only offer a small upturn of her lips. She’d wanted to say, “No, they’re a warning,” but she swallowed the sentence and continued to answer questions; _Convince him_ , playing on repeat in her head, making her worry over every statement that left her mouth. Which wrong foot would mean the noose around Gale’s neck? The gunshots to his families’ bodies? The additional blood on her hands? She felt as if she was back in the Games standing on a landmine waiting for the announcer to yell ‘Go!’ so she could run away and hide.

 _Convince him_ , she thinks with a shudder. _Convince him_.

“Convince who?”

Katniss jumps and quickly averts her eyes away from Snow’s flowers. Flavius is looking at her in the mirror. One of his eyebrows is raised so high that it’s nearly lost in his bird’s nest of orange hair.

“No one,” she says, careful not to shake her head lest she mess up the intricate braid Flavius is working on. “It’s nothing.”

“It’s obviously something,” Flavius says going back to work on Katniss’ hair and talking around the bobby pins in his mouth. “You were all broody. I feared for your poor forehead. Wrinkles are so not in right now, dear.” Flavius draws a cross with the tip of his finger in the gap between Katniss’ brows, smoothing out the tension there.

“You said him,” he says. “Is it Peeta? Trouble in paradise?”

Katniss flinches. She’s been doing that every time someone mentions his name, covering it up with an empty smile as best as she can. Peeta lives across the way, and yet, she’s never stepped foot into his home; he’s never stepped foot in hers. He always leaves fresh baked bread on her stoop, has taken to ringing the doorbell and waiting now that snow has been falling regularly but once the basket is in her hand he leaves with barely a look and a whispered, “Here. Tell Prim and your mother I said hello.”

“We’re fine,” she says. _No, we’re not_ , she thinks.

Flavius looks skeptical but simply clicks his tongue and moves on. “Well, if you ever do need advice all you have to do is ask,” he says, sticking more bobby pins into her up-do so it holds. “I’ve got words of wisdom by the bucket loads. Take it from a man who has dated other men. We’re fickle creatures, dear. Always saying what we want only to go in the complete opposite direction.” Flavius’s hands flail about with his words and his eyes sparkle as he says, “In fact, let me tell you about the time that I…”

Katniss’ eyes wander back toward Snow’s bouquet. Her problem is not with understanding men and even if it were, she doubts Flavius’s advice would be helpful. The men of District 12 are neither fickle nor frivolous; they don’t have that luxury. They can be callous and cruel but never flighty and rarely reckless. No, what Katniss doesn't comprehend is how one relationship can spell death for two or three families if it doesn’t succeed.

Her stomach is in knots. In order to protect Gale she must somehow convince the whole country of her undying love for a boy who makes her feel like glass. When Peeta looks at Katniss it’s like he is seeing through her; it is as if he no longer knows her enough to bother looking at her. If it were Gale in Peeta’s place Katniss is sure she could do this. She knows Gale; she trusts him. He doesn’t scare her like Peeta does and he doesn’t confuse her. There’s no rift between her and Gale, no ice bobbing in the water of their conversations. Peeta is polite but so cold, and Katniss finds herself reacting to him in the same manner. Neither of them have done a thing to mend the bridge that broke between them, and while Katniss knows Peeta will do what is expected of him, she’s terrified it won’t be enough.

 _How do I trust someone who doesn’t trust me,_ she wants to ask. _I'm not going to apologize for something that saved our lives, but how do I fix something I’m not even sure how I broke? What does he want from me?_

“…though despite all of that I’d probably give him another chance,” Flavius says while putting the last bobby pin in Katniss’ hair. “I mean the things he could do with his mouth I swear.”

Katniss’ eyes widen and her cheeks burn red. “What,” she asks.

Flavius laughs. “Oh, there’s no need to blush, dear. I’m sure you and Peeta have been learning the ins and outs of each other,” he says with a wiggle of his brows.

Her flush deepens. Before Katniss can respond Cinna cuts in saving her from further discussion of what she and Peeta have certainly _not_ been doing.

“I think that’s quite enough, Flavius,” Cinna says, gently moving him to the side and sending him on his way.

Flavius leaves with a huff at Cinna and a small finger wave at Katniss.

Cinna rolls his eyes. “Whatever he was telling you, just ignore it. We all do,” he says. “That man spends too much time talking about his sex life.”

Katniss nods and swallows. She’d only just begun to tune back into Flavius’s conversation toward the end. She has no idea what he’d been talking to her about other than some man and the wonders of his mouth. In all honesty, Katniss would rather not think about Flavius with anyone. In fact, she’d rather not think of _anybody_ with anyone if she can help it.

“Let’s add the finishing touches,” Cinna says. He helps Katniss into a dip dyed ermine jacket that is at once white and then gradually grows darker until it turns black on the way down to its hem. Katniss smooths her hands down the material. It’s softer than anything she’s ever worn and so warm. If she and Prim had had jackets like this during the winters in D12 she wouldn’t have had to ever think about the amount of time she spent out in the woods or how long it took to get to school. It would have meant more food and less brisk, shivering walks. Katniss ducks her chin and rubs her nose against the fur, imagining proper snow fights with her sister without fear of frostbite or becoming gravely ill.

Cinna slips a pair of bright red earmuffs on her ears breaking Katniss out of her thoughts. He smiles as she fusses with them. “You’re bringing earmuffs back. Deal with it, little bird,” he says fondly when she scrunches up her nose in distaste.

The nickname startles Katniss, prompting tears to form in her eyes that she quickly blames on the increase in flashing cameras. _Rue_ , she thinks but she dares not look at Prim whose laugh can be heard even though she’s all the way in the kitchen. Katniss is too afraid of what she might see now that her mind is filled with the sweet song of a child who could have been her sister in another life. She holds her hands out for Cinna and keeps her eyes trained on the black leather gloves he’s assisting her with.

“Chin up, Katniss,” he says, with a light chuck to her chin when he’s finished.

Katniss’ attempt at a smile falls short when she sees her mother over Cinna’s shoulder.

Noticing the look on her face, Cinna turns. He says, “Ah, Patricia, I see you’ve come to give Katniss her token.”

Katniss and her mother don’t break eye contact but Patricia does nod to acknowledge what Cinna said. When she steps forward he moves to Katniss’ side.

“For luck,” Patricia says as she places the pin in her daughter’s hand. She reaches out and almost brings her hand to Katniss’ cheek before sighing and retracting it. Patricia settles for a light pat to Katniss’ shoulder and a firm nod. “Right then. I’ll see you soon,” she says before walking away.

Katniss watches as she goes. Her mother has been standing straighter. She seems stronger and there are hints of the woman she once was returning to her every day. Still, Katniss has trouble seeing her mother as anything other than the broken woman who abandoned her daughters, who made her feel inadequate and unloved. Katniss isn’t Prim. She can’t forgive as easily. The memory of wishing to die is still too fresh and raw. _I saved us while you sat and did nothing_ , she thinks as she watches her mother make her way through the sea of people in the room. _You getting better doesn’t change that. It can’t._ _It won’t. I don’t know how to let it._

Patricia Everdeen disappears into the hustle and bustle of the room. Reporters and their staff block Katniss’ view as they fiddle with their cameras and rattle off last minute instructions to their teams. Effie walks past, styled to what she considers perfection. Her hair is bobbed and silver. Her velvet coat is deep burgundy and belted at the waist. A pattern of falling leaves adorns the material. It is as if Effie were Winter herself in a grey tulle skirt and a pair of boots that would be practical for this weather if it weren’t for the four inch square heel.

“Alright. Look alive, people,” Effie yells with a clap of her hands bringing the whole room’s attention to herself. “We have two minutes until we’re live. I need all members of the press to familiarize themselves with their press packets. Every do and don’t is clearly described and an itinerary for the tour has been included. You _will_ reserve all further questions for the train station where you will have the opportunity to speak to my Victors. Then _we_ will board train one and _you_ will board train two.”

Effie narrows her eyes letting the glasses she doesn’t need to slip down the bridge of her nose. “If I find any members of the press on train one,” she says looking at them from over top her frames. “Or attempting to sneak on the train I _will_ personally revoke your tour pass and leave you in whatever district we happen to be in. Do I make myself clear?”

The press murmur an affirmative unanimously but it’s clear that their response is not good enough for Effie. She stands straighter and purses her lips with distaste. “Do I make myself clear,” she asks again, her voice firmer and louder.

“Yes, Ms. Trinket,” the press say. Katniss can see that some of them don’t quite like Effie’s tone and treatment of them but as Effie keeps saying this is the event of the century and no one wants to miss out. “Two Victors,” Effie had been saying all day. “Two Victors and they are both mine.” It had irked Katniss but she let it go. Her concern is President Snow. Effie can say and think what she wants. For now.

“Good,” Effie says. “Now where is Katniss?”

When Effie’s eyes land on her, she smiles. It’s plastic and honeyed. Nothing like the rare glimpse of the real Effie that Katniss had caught when she and Peeta were crowned Victors. Her smile was so wide you could nearly see all of her teeth and her eyes had sparkled. But there’s nothing in her eyesnow besides self-centered pride and perhaps a small bit of fondness as she looks at Katniss.

“There you are, darling,” she says, her voice sugary and nearly making Katniss grind her teeth together. Katniss hates Effie’s “on” voice. It’s high and soft with just the right touch of “naturally” perfect even though no one in the world enunciates that well.

Effie strides over to Katniss and nearly bumps Cinna out of the way. Katniss stifles a laugh as Cinna makes a face behind Effie’s back and mouths, ‘Mentors,’ with a roll of his eyes.

With a click of her tongue and a hand pressed to Katniss’ cheek, Effie asks her if she’s okay. All Katniss can do is nod. If she said no the press would have their tablets out and their fingers flying across their keyboards faster than she could finish pronouncing the word. And her mouth can’t even form the word ‘yes’. All she has are _no's_. _No_ , she’s not alright. _No_ , she doesn’t want to go on this tour. _No_ , she doesn’t want to leave her family and Gale for weeks unable to get in contact with them. And most importantly, _no_ , she does _not_ want to see Peeta. Not if it means empty smiles and conversations for the camera. Not if it means him continuing to look at her like she’s not even there when the cameras turn off. But Katniss can’t say _no_ so she simply listens to Effie rattle off directions at her.

“Big smile,” Effie says while adjusting Katniss’ pin. “This is the reunion shot. The first ever done in Games History. You’re excited! Ecstatic! Completely overjoyed, okay?”

Effie doesn’t wait for Katniss to answer. She leads her over to the door, leans down, and whispers, “Give them a good show,” before pulling back and saying, “I’ll count you off.”

“5”

Katniss bounces on her toes like a boxer, shakes her hands out, and ignores the disapproving glare Effie sends her way.

“4”

She takes a deep breath.

“3”

 _Convince him_ , she thinks.

“2”

_Convince him!_

“1”

Katniss opens the door and walks out. She’s careful to close it behind her. Effie wanted the reunion to look as spontaneous and unplanned as possible which is ridiculous considering her and Peeta “reuniting” doesn’t even make sense. It’s not like they’ve spent the last six months apart from one another. Well, actually it is like that but as far as the whole of Panem knows they’ve been living near one another and spending every day in romantic bliss since the Games, but still, Effie had insisted. “Be free, be young, and be in love,” she had said. “That shouldn’t be too hard considering the both of you are all three of those things. Just make sure you know where all the cameras are.”

_We’re young but we’re not free and we're not in love. Love is for children and people who are guaranteed to survive._

Katniss tries to shake off those thoughts and walks forward. She can barely see with the snow but she knows there are cameras trained on her from her house, Peeta’s house, and the roofs.

Peeta’s door is still closed, so she slows her steps.

 _Come on. Come on_.

Peeta’s door opens. He’s laughing, his head is thrown back as he dodges the hand Portia is swatting at him. She’s laughing just as brightly as she shoos him out into the cold. There’s a sharp sting in Katniss’ chest that makes her want to rub her hand over it. She can’t remember the last time she saw Peeta laugh let alone the last time they laughed together.

Katniss stops walking and just watches as Peeta closes the door. He hasn’t looked up yet, too busy fussing with his gloves. _What if I can’t do this,_ she thinks.

 _Aim higher in case you fall short_ resounds in her head. President Snow’s voice curls around her thoughts like smoke. _It’s simple, Katniss, all you have to do is convince me and no one gets hurt._

 _I have to_. _I have to_ , Katniss thinks, her hands ball into fists by her side. “Peeta,” she yells making sure to bite her lip and look as if she’s bursting out of her skin to get to him even though she’s still standing firmly in place.

Peeta looks up. For a moment he stands there staring at her. It’s almost enough for Katniss to falter. His face is unreadable from what she can see of it but then his lips slowly curve into a smile. His face becomes as bright as the yellow bulb in his door lamp as he calls her name and begins to make his way to her.

Katniss breaks out into a run and launches herself at him mind completely empty save for needing to make this look like it should. It’s not until her arms go around his neck and his arms take their place around her waist that she remembers about his leg. The two of them go crashing to the ground. A cloud of snow rises up around them from the impact.

“Well, that was smooth,” Peeta says once they’ve both gotten their breath back. “You could say you swept me off my feet.”

Peeta’s comment surprises a laugh out of Katniss. The mirth floats out of her, making her eyes crinkle at the corners. And when Peeta joins her, there’s something warm that settles into the place in her chest that had stung before. His laugh is softer than hers, almost reserved. It makes Katniss want to hear him laugh louder, more open, like the way he’d laughed with Portia. When Peeta laughs with Katniss it’s always quiet as if he’d rather hear her. It makes Katniss feel nervous. Warm but nervous.

When they settle, Peeta moves a lock of hair behind Katniss’ ear and says, “Hi.” The greeting is the first one from him in six months that isn’t pulled from his mouth by politeness. He’s looking at Katniss and touching her. His thumb is smoothing across her cheek in a dance it hasn’t performed since the Games. It makes Katniss shiver but she doesn’t know why. It’s like he’s got electricity running from the pad of his thumb into her skin but she’s not sure what that means. It’s not like he hasn’t touched her before. It’s always felt nice but this is different even though the way he’s looking at her hasn't changed.

“Hi,” Katniss whispers back. Her pants are beginning to get soaked through at the knees and yet she could swear that she doesn’t feel it at all. Not when Peeta’s finally looking her in the eyes.

 _I missed this_ , she thinks. _I missed the way you see me._

A need begins to well in Katniss. One she hasn't felt since they were in the cave, and she realized she feared losing Peeta. Katniss gives into that need and kisses him. The kiss is sweet. Katniss would almost swear that he tastes like sugar but before she can stop him Peeta moves back. He presses their foreheads together and laughs in that way he does when nothing is really funny. Peeta kisses her again but it’s perfunctory, almost involuntary. The kiss tastes like nothing but distance and cold; Katniss doesn’t like it.

“Freezing,” he whispers.

“Yeah,” Katniss says her eyes fixed on his, watching the blue shift as he figures out whatever is going on in his head.

Peeta laughs once more. It’s warmer than the last. Katniss made him do that. She doesn't know how she did it but it happened and she'd like it to happen again. Peeta rubs his nose against hers before continuing. “No, it’s freezing. We should probably get up.”

Katniss’ eyes widen as she trips over an, “Oh. Right. Yes,” and the world suddenly comes rushing back to her in waves. She can feel the numbness starting to settle into her knees. She shivers. Katniss had been so tuned in to Peeta-the flush of his cheeks, the snow wetting his hair, the feel of him pressed against her-that she’d forgotten everything but him for a moment. She curses herself for her lack of thought; she’s no idea what Snow saw.

_What did my face look like? What did they see?_

Katniss quickly stands and brushes her pants off before offering Peeta a hand. When she pulls him up she says, “Sorry.” Her brown cheeks are almost as red as his but for a different reason than cold.

Peeta shakes his head and dusts the snow out of his hair. “Still getting used to weight shifts,” he says.

She nods. “Right.”

He nods, too, before crooking his arm. “Shall we,” he asks.

Katniss loops her arm with his. She pays closer attention to the cameras as she leads the way.

 

* * *

 

Katniss sits on the couch in the last car of the train. Her legs are pulled up to her chest, her jacket folded neatly and lying beside her. She absentmindedly rubs the fur back and forth as she watches the snow distort the image of her district while the train moves further and further away. There are the trees that stand broken and gnarled row after row, an ever falling whiteness that blankets the land, and there is the memory of Prim on tip toe, hand stretched out waving, shouting for them to be safe and that she’ll see them soon. She’d looked so innocent bundled up in the blue bubble jacket Effie had given to her, her golden hair being played with by the wind. Prim had looked nothing like Rue with her Games standard coat and unruly curls but that was who she’d seen. Rue waving, telling her she’d see her soon and to be careful.

The split second sight of Rue had torn a hole through Katniss. She had to hold tight to the rail. She was shaking so bad, but she couldn’t let Prim see her breaking, so she smiled instead. Katniss smiled for her and for Rue but even with the image of the two girls far from her sight she can't stop looking out the window. She can’t will herself away from the last place she saw them. Not yet. So she lets Effie talk at her for a few minutes and hears Peeta mumble something about his room before he takes off. Katniss isn’t quite sure where Haymitch is.

“You’ll be back to that hellhole in a few weeks,” Haymitch says interrupting her thoughts as he drags a chair over pointedly being as noisy as possible. “You might as well stop staring out the window like you’re going to miss it.”

 _Apparently not far,_ she thinks.

Katniss is silent for a moment. She turns her gaze away from the tracks and looks at Haymitch. His tie is loose, his vest unbuttoned, and his sleeves are rolled to his elbows. It suits him better than the put together look Effie had been striving for even going as far as to color match their outfits. “We’re their mentors. We should look the part,” she’d said personally fixing his tie and smoothing it into place. Haymitch hadn’t put up a fight, preferring to pick his battles. The first being how much he’s allowed to drink when not “on duty” as Effie puts it, and the second being his downright refusal to appear on camera for any time venturing over thirty seconds.

Haymitch looks presentable, though perhaps a little rumpled. Presentable, respectable, and judging by his eyes, sober. Sober Haymitch means a trustworthy Haymitch and right now Katniss could use someone she trusts.

“Might not be coming back,” she says, before turning her eyes to the snow again.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

The ice tinkles inside Haymitch’s glass as he raises it up to his mouth.

 _Guess he won’t be sober for long_ , Katniss thinks. “It means I need to talk to you,” she says keeping her voice as nonchalant as possible. For all she knows the train could be bugged. Katniss blindly reaches out for Haymitch’s glass and takes a sip once it’s securely in her hand. She’s disappointed by what she tastes.

“Okay,” he says with a smirk before standing up. “By the way you can keep the water, sweetheart, I’ll find something a little stronger for myself.”

When the train stops for fuel Katniss shrugs her jacket on. She startles one of the attendants when she opens the door letting the cool air into the room. The girl has to be more than a few years older than Katniss, but she still stutters out, “Miss Everdeen? Miss Everdeen, we’re only stopping for a moment.”

“It’s okay. I’m only going to get some fresh air,” Katniss says trying to put on her best smile but it does nothing to calm the girl.

“No, Miss Everdeen, you don’t understand,” she says again, setting her empty tray down. “It really _is_ only going to be a moment. But I mean…,” the girl trails off and looks to the side. “Maybe if I told Ms. Trinket. She could accompany you.”

“No, that’s really not,” Katniss begins.

“Necessary,” Haymitch finishes and places a hand on Katniss’ shoulder. Katniss looks up at him. That’s the second time he’s snuck up on her without her noticing which is irksome.

The attendant visibly relaxes. “Mr. Abernathy,” she says with a curt dip of her head. “Of course.”

“Of course,” Katniss grumbles under her breath as they make their way outside. “Of course, Mr. Abernathy. Of course.”

“Aw, cut the kid some slack,” Haymitch says throwing his arm around Katniss’ shoulder which she promptly shoves off. “Games Victor goes off gallivanting no one the wiser except for a poor train attendant from District 6. Victor lost. Victor dead. Whose tongue do you think they’re going to cut out in retribution?”

“Hers,” Katniss says feeling uncomfortable. She had really just wanted to get off the train for a bit. Yes, she had plans to signal Haymitch if she spotted him in one of the windows but she didn’t plan to run; she couldn’t.

“Exactly,” Haymitch says. He looks behind himself to see how much distance is between them and the train before coming to a stop. “Now, you said you need to speak with me, so shoot.”

Katniss sighs. “Snow knows,” she whispers and looks down.

“Speak up. I can’t hear you.”

She snaps her head up. “I said Snow knows.” Katniss clenches her fingers in the pockets of her jacket. “He knows that Peeta and I lied about being in love with each other. Or at least he knows that I did.”

Katniss kicks at the dirt beneath her foot. It’s not snowing where they are now just cold ground for miles and miles but it might as well be, for all she sees is white. A white man with white hair and too white teeth leaving a bouquet of white roses for her as a warning. Behave or else.

“He’s been watching us. Said he’d needed to keep an eye on his two love birds, but little did he know one bird would stray.”

“Sweetheart, what the hell are you going on about,” Haymitch asks. He looks frustrated, and Katniss knows that she’s talking in circles but all she can hear is President Snow’s disappointed voice and the disdain dripping from his tone like the bit of tea slowly making its way down his pristine white cup.

“Gale kissed me,” she says though that’s not entirely true. Gale kissed her, but she kissed him back. “We kissed.” It takes everything in Katniss not to bring her hand to her mouth like she can recapture that moment simply by touching her lips.

“We were in the woods,” Katniss begins, her voice taking on a far away quality as she remembers. “We were in the woods,” she repeats. “And we were so happy to see each other. We just--,” she shakes her head. “It didn’t last long. I thought it didn’t…It wasn’t supposed to…No one was supposed to know.”

“But Snow does.”

“Yes.”

“He threatened your family.”

“My family and Gale’s,” she says. Katniss’ fear and anger bubbles to the surface. She wishes she had a bow. An arrow. Something to shoot. “He said he’d make me watch them die, Haymitch, one by one.”

“So I need you to help me get through this trip,” Katniss says and then begins to pace. “It was one kiss. Our first kiss. And it didn’t…It was one kiss!”

“Must have been some kiss,” Haymitch mutters.

Katniss stops pacing and glares at him. “That is beside the point,” she says through clenched teeth. Her arms are crossed, knuckles digging into her hips as she tries to keep herself in check. “The President is going to execute our families if I don’t convince him and the districts that Peeta and I are in love.”

Haymitch laughs mirthlessly. “Well, you’re half way there. The boy loves you.”

She shakes her head. “Peeta doesn’t love me. He doesn’t even know me.”

“I’ll give you that,” he says, running a hand over his close cropped hair. “The boy didn’t know you before he decided to fall ass over tea kettle but that didn’t stop him from doing it.”

Katniss looks down. “You’re wrong,” she whispers, but doesn’t elaborate, there’s no need. Peeta didn’t speak to her for months. When you love someone you don’t do that. Katniss has never been in love, but that she does know. She and Peeta aren’t in love. They’re…they’re something, she can acknowledge that much but they aren’t in love.

“Sweetheart,” Haymitch starts. It comes out like a sigh. He steps closer to her. “Katniss, I need you to look at me.” He waits until she does. “Look, I’ll help you. I’ll do my damn best to keep this house of cards from tumbling over but you’ve got to know this isn’t just for the tour. Tell me you know that.”

Katniss remains silent. All she’s thought about is this tour since Snow hammered home its importance to her. She just has to make it through the tour. Convince him; convince Panem. That’s what he said. She hadn’t given much thought to anything else and if she’s honest she hasn’t let herself.

“Ah, Katniss.”

“Spit it out, Haymitch.”

Haymitch sighs again like the release of air will help lighten the load of this conversation. It irritates Katniss. It’s like every breath is a knife poking at her resolve. Haymitch can breathe. Every puff of cold air leaving his mouth is evidence but Katniss can’t. She can feel the air go in but it’s like her lungs refuse to churn it out. Possibly her stomach’s fault. The traitor is roiling along to the shake in her hands. She wishes she could crawl out of her skin and leave it on the ground. Mark the spot and write, _Here lies Katniss Everdeen. Victor_ , in the dirt and just walk away.

Finally, Haymitch speaks and he does it with a dip in his shoulder like this is his burden to carry, too. Katniss wants to smack him in the spine and make him stand upright. If anyone should be bending under the weight of their situation it’s her but she’s not. She can’t.

“You know how this game is played,” he says. “You’re a Victor now so there are different rules but it’s still the same game. Yes, there’s this tour but in a few months you’ll be a Mentor and Effie and her like will be milking your “love” story until the cow runs dry. And when that cow runs dry they’ll just get another one because from here on out there will be an endless supply. You’re young and they like that because it means they have a lifetime to capture on television and in print. Two tributes fall in love and they beat the odds by winning the Games together. They become Victors and then they become Mentors. And from there it’s marriage and kids.”

Katniss cuts him off. “And then it’s watching those kids grow up and become eligible for the Games,” she says refusing to let a single tear fall even though her eyes are misting over and she’s barely in control of the ragged breathes that her lungs expel. _It’s being forced to mentor your child,_ she thinks, _while the Capitol counts themselves lucky because either way they win. Tributes die every year but a Victor’s child? That’s a show whether they win or lose and that’s exactly the kind of entertainment they love._

“Sweetheart,” Haymitch says reaching out to Katniss as the horror of it all plays out on her face, but she flinches away.

“No, Haymitch, you made your point. I got it.”

“I’ll help you anyway that I can.”

She nods.

“There are worse options than Peeta.”

The laugh Katniss lets out sounds like it’s forced from her throat; it’s a sad choked puff that dies as soon as it’s released. “Yeah, like my best friend and our families dead. I know.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“I know that, too, doesn’t change the facts though, Haymitch, does it?”

“No, it doesn’t,” he relents.

They make their way back to the train in silence. Katniss walks off to her room once they enter. As soon as the door slides open the lights flicker on bathing the room in their soft brilliance. Katniss heads straight for the vanity and stares into the mirror. She shrugs off her coat, letting it slide onto the bench to hang haphazardly, and begins to remove the bobby pins from her hair. The tendrils fall slowly and settle across her shoulders and back once she is done. The ends are curled delicately. Perfect like the arch of her plucked and smoothed eyebrows, the apple of her cheeks dusted with shimmering flecks of gold and rose, and her red tinted lips that have lost their sheen but remain lovely still. A perfect Capitol product.

Katniss smacks her hand against the mirror but it doesn’t break, merely distorts for a second before snapping back into focus. Her reflection is the same. She hits the mirror again but it reacts as it did before. To cage a scream, Katniss bites her lip. Her breathes are harsh, her mind tangled with thoughts of the choice being ripped from her grasp before she can even land firmly on a side. She thought she had time. Granted she was born in a district where time was limited by circumstance but she was still guaranteed the right to her own life past Reaping age. Marriage or no? Children or no? Those were her choices to sort through and risk if she chose and now…now they are certainties. In less than a day her could-have-beens have become wills. She _will_ be a wife; she _will_ be a mother.

With a ferocity that nearly tears the wipes in two, Katniss begins to cleanse her face of make-up. Her fingers work diligently at removing the Capitol’s pawn from her sight until all that is left is a girl she somewhat recognizes. Katniss Everdeen of the Seam. Hunter and provider. Sister and friend. A girl whose place is in the woods with a boy who has been more man than child for far longer than what is right. Some would say that she, too, has been more woman than most her age, but when she thinks of Gale’s kiss she feels almost girlish in the way that her cheeks naturally redden at the memory. He’d kissed her like she was the well and he a water starved man. Katniss had never felt what transferred between the two of them before. She’d felt like she was going to be consumed by the force of Gale’s desire. It had set her insides alight. And then she’d melted into it and he’d become gentle. His fingers played with the hairs at the nape of her neck and he’d smiled against her lips. She’d never seen Gale so delighted and now she’d never see it again. At least not directed toward her.

A growl escapes Katniss as she pushes away from the mirror nearly knocking the bench over in her haste. Every bit of her room is tidy and prim. The covers are tucked nicely. The navy dress she's meant to wear for her District 11 arrival lays across the sheets simple with its grid like pattern. A pair of black shoes Effie referred to as "Darlings" stand on the floor. Perfect square heel with a cute white sash tied into a bow. She'll look the picture of innocence as she is meant to be. Orderly. Part of the machine. Katniss turns away in disgust.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading. I hope you enjoyed it. See you next chapter!


	2. part one: I've got blood on my name

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y'all. So about 7 months have gone by since I last posted, and I have finally wrangled this chapter into submission. My original plan for this fic was for each chapter to represent a stop in the tour, but chapter 2 has grown into a bit of a monster so the District 11 stop has had to be split in two. I am currently writing part two of chapter 2, and have a clear vision for it so, there shouldn't be a 7 month wait between the parts. 
> 
> I'd like to thank my beta Shar for bringing me down from the clouds and helping me rein in some of my ideas so that they translated on the page and not just in my head. And for any who's reading, I am still looking for a beta to help me with writing Peeta's disability into the story. Someone who actually has a physical disability, preferably a leg amputee, would be extremely appreciated to help check me on my ignorance and help me flesh out this aspect of Peeta's life. 
> 
> Alright, now on to the fic!

Katniss stands in the doorway watching Peeta. She hasn't moved since she first saw him, leg drawn up to his chest, face turned to look out the window. They haven't spoken since he wandered off to his room. She feels childish standing in the entrance to the last train car like this but she doesn't want to disturb him. There's a part of her that fears he'll turn cold eyes toward her again now that the cameras are nowhere in sight. And there's another part that fears he'll do the opposite. That he'll welcome her with a smile and a gesture for her to sit. Katniss wants neither option and so she stands idly watching him.

She rubs her lips together smearing the clear gloss on them. For once she's been allowed to remain plain faced. Cinna had liked the innocent picture she made with her hair pulled back in a low ponytail. "To match the Darlings, darling," he'd said in an exaggerated voice. Katniss hadn't felt like laughing and so she didn't. Cinna had tried a few more times to lift her spirits but she'd been barely responsive. He finished and left her with a kiss on the forehead and an assurance that all would be fine. Looking at Peeta with moonlight shining down upon him, Katniss doesn't think anything will ever be fine again.

 _Haymitch says you're to be mine_ , she thinks, _but I don't want to be yours. I've never been anyone's but my own._

"I don't think navy is my color," Peeta says startling Katniss out of her thoughts.

"What," she asks and takes a step into the room. She doesn't know how long Peeta has been aware of her presence. It puts her on edge.

"I assume it's meant to complement you," he says as if she'd never spoken. With a small turn of his head, Peeta takes a cursory glance at Katniss and says, "And I'm correct. One for Mellark," before returning his gaze to the window.

Katniss bristles. She feels out of sorts. This lukewarm acknowledgement is neither a dismissal nor an invitation. It's not what she expected. Peeta is wearing a navy jacket that Katniss forgets the name of, a white shirt, and pants that match his jacket. He looks...nice. _Better than nice_ , she thinks, but Katniss isn't feeling particularly generous, so she says, "You look fine," and chooses to sit in a chair rather than with him on the couch built into the wall. The gulf between them stays intact.

He turns back to her. "And you look beautiful," he says. His eyes search hers. For what Katniss isn't sure but it makes her tense.

"Don't do that," she says.

"Do what," he asks. "It was a compliment. You act like no one's ever called you beautiful before."

 _That's just it_ , she thinks, _no one ever has. Seam girls have to be strong and resilient. We're built to survive. It's the town girls with their silly laughter and their painted nails that are made to be seen_. Katniss has considered herself radiant before but that's not a description of beauty. That's about light and power. She'd felt fierce, in command of what little control she'd had left over her life. But this here with Peeta is not control. She never knows what he's going to say. He has a way of blindsiding her with his comments.

"Just don't," she says, fingers twitching against the armrests of her chair.

"It's the truth, Katniss," Peeta says. "There's no need to get worked up over a fact."

 _A "fact" no one else seems to need to voice_ , she thinks and cross her arms, glaring.

"If you don't want me to talk to you then I won't," says Peeta. He looks as annoyed as Katniss feels.

She wants to say, "You haven't talked to me for months that wouldn't be much of a change," but she holds her tongue. She's irritated but not enough to let him know that months of his silence bothered her. Instead she stands and moves to sit on the couch with him. Katniss maintains space between them and turns to look out the window. She can be silent, too.

They sit wordlessly as the landscape begins to shift into the features they've only read about in their schoolbooks. The world slowly becomes a vast open field dotted with grazing cattle. Wildflowers tangle in the grass of the rolling hills. The occasional row of trees comes into view; they're shrub like in comparison to the great woods of District 12.

Eventually a large fence becomes visible on the horizon.

"Well, that's intimidating," Peeta says.

Katniss stares as the train comes to a halt before the fence. It has to be at least 35 feet high with barbed wire coils fixed atop like a crown of thorns. Watch towers with bright white lights are spread evenly across. Armed guards are stationed in the towers, their guns slung across their fronts. On the ground, flowers twine around the metal of the fence. Steel plates line the bottom. For a district with agriculture as their industry, the entrance is heavily fortified.

After a minute, the train begins to make its way through the gates of the fence. As they pass through, Katniss sweeps her eyes across the structure looking for any possibility of escape. She sees none. Katniss had gathered from Rue's talk of her home that conditions in District 11 were harsher, but she never imagined this. At least she had the woods and Gale. Though brief, she could taste freedom beyond the unguarded and frequently not electrified fence that surrounds District 12. No such thing exists for the people here.

Stretched far and wide are different crops. Workers are steady tending to the fruits of their labor despite the lack of sunlight. They stop only to watch the train pass, shifting their night vision goggles up to see better. Katniss half expects the children to run along the side mirroring the Capitol kids in their excitement, but they don't. They stand as still as the adults, bare feet digging into the ground, and return to their work when the others do.

"How many people do you think live here," asks Peeta.

Katniss watches more land and people go by. She can't put a number to how many of them she's seen scaling trees, carrying bushels, and helping to gather tools. Katniss has a feeling that this isn't even half of District 11 maybe not even a third. She swallows and shakes her head.

"I don't know," she says. _Too many. Way too many._

"Oh, good. You're both here."

Katniss turns her head toward the entrance of the room. Effie stands in the doorway. She's changed into a grey suit.

"Well, don't you look lovely," Effie says, smiling at the navy pair Peeta and Katniss make. "Cinna was right the blazer without white piping is a much better fit for offsetting Katniss' dress. The pictures from this short meet and greet are going to be quite the sensation."

"Now, just so you know," she says while pulling on a pair of gloves, "It's just going to be the three of us tonight."

"Why," Peeta asks finally pulling his eyes away from the window. "What's wrong with Haymitch?"

Effie's lips tighten before she answers. "Nothing is wrong with Haymitch," she says. "The mayor just doesn't want him staying in his house."

"Why," Katniss presses. She doesn't like that Effie seems to be hiding something from them.

"Mayor Cransberry is very picky about who he lets into his home," Effie says, avoiding their eyes as she adjusts her hat. "Haymitch will be staying here along with your prep teams. We will see them and the members of the press tomorrow morning with exception to the three I've hand picked to cover your meeting with the mayor. Now come along, we'll be stopping in a moment."

The three of them walk through the train quietly. When Katniss passes Haymitch she sees him fold his hands together. She takes it as a sign and grabs for Peeta's hand. His lays slack in hers until the doors of the train open, only then does he slot his fingers between hers. Katniss tries not to let her smile falter as bulbs flash before her eyes. They walk out together.

On the platform, besides three reporters, is a pale man in a white suit and a hat that casts a shadow over his face. He stands tall with his hands held behind his back. Two women holding lanterns flank the man. One has warm brown skin, her thick black hair braided around her head like a halo. The other has skin a few shades darker than the golden flame in her lantern, her brown locks curl around her ears. The hem of their red skirts are dirty but their clothes are less thread bare and raggedy than those of the workers in the field. Around their shoulders are multi-colored woven shawls.

"Welcome to District 11," the man says, arms spread wide as he steps forward. "I am Mayor Cransberry. It's a pleasure to meet you, Peeta Mellark." Cransberry sticks his hand out for a shake. "I've heard a lot about you, young man," he says with a chuckle. "All of it good, I assure you."

The mayor gives Peeta's hand a firm pat. A camera flashes. "I hope you're getting my good side," Cransberry quips. He drops Peeta's hand and faces the three men from the press.

The reporters laugh. One says, "Of course, Mr. Mayor. Wouldn't want to upset you and find ourselves in your fields."

"Ha. Scared I'll treat you like one of mine," the mayor asks. "That I'll have you pickin' peaches 'til your fingers bleed? Nah, you ain't got the right skin, boy," he says, pointing a finger at him. "You'd burn out there. The sun'd get you before I could. I'd take a lickin' to you though."

The reporters and Cransberry laugh again; they're the only ones. Effie's smile is once again tight, Peeta's face is blank, and Katniss is curling her fingers into the side of her dress. She feels herself begin to scowl as he continues to laugh. Katniss doubts that he's just joking about working people until they bleed.

It takes the blinking red light in the corner of Katniss' eye to remind her of where she is and who she's standing before. She wills her eyes not to go big with the realization that she nearly ruined everything. Katniss is lucky that the camera recording has kept its lens trained on Mayor Cransberry and not her and Peeta. She quickly tries to get herself in check and releases the fabric of her dress.

When Peeta slots his fingers with hers again Katniss snaps her gaze to him. He gives no sign that he noticed her struggling with her temper simply squeezes her hand and keeps his focus on the mayor. Katniss exhales and allows the warmth of Peeta's hand to douse her anger.

Cransberry spends a few more minutes making the reporters laugh. Every second that passes causes Effie to tap her foot with more vigor until finally she clears her throat and says, "Mayor," to get his attention.

Cransberry turns to her. "Yes, Ms. Trinket?"

Effie stares in disbelief, but quickly schools her face into one of patience and understanding as the camera switches its view to her. "I believe," she says. "You have not had the honor of meeting my other Victor, Katniss."

"Ah, yes," the mayor says, rubbing a hand over his beard. "My apologies. How rude of me." He walks over to Katniss. "Miss Everdeen," he says with a voice that lacks the enthusiasm it held for Peeta and the reporters. A smile is fixed to his face but it does not reach his eyes. "Welcome." He doesn't offer his hand for a shake which Katniss is grateful for. The mayor's curt welcome is fine with her. She'd rather not spend time trying to trade pleasantries whilst working to keep her face neutral. Katniss nods which seems to be enough for Cransberry who turns back to Peeta.

"I trust the trip down was fine. No trouble?"

"Why would there be trouble," Peeta asks.

The mayor glances at Katniss. "No reason. No reason at all, my boy," he says.

Katniss' heart jumps. _He knows something_ , she thinks. _What does he know?_

The back and forth pass of Peeta's thumb across the back of her hand works to calm Katniss. His presence is the glue keeping her passive mask firmly in place. She can feel panic trying to move through her bloodstream, to scream through the vessels into her heart. This whole tour could all be for nothing. Her family could already be dead. So could Gale's. Katniss stomps those thoughts down. _No. Snow promised. Convince him. I just have to convince him._

Fully aware of a camera trained on them, Katniss leans her head against Peeta's shoulder and reaches across herself to cling to his arm.

Peeta leans his head against hers. "You okay," he asks. The camera flashes.

"Tired," she says.

Mayor Cransberry's wan grin makes a reappearance at Katniss' words. "Of course," he says. "Y'all must be mighty tired. These women will escort you to the house." He sweeps his arm backward, but before he can say anything more a pair of Peacekeepers with high powered rifles slung across their backs step up to the platform. One of them walks over to the mayor and whispers something in his ear.

When the Peackeeper pulls back, Cransberry claps his hands together and says, "Well, it seems that I am needed elsewhere. Good evening all." He tips his hat toward the reporters. "Nice speaking to you, gentlemen."

A camera flashes one last time as the mayor is handed a gun by the Peacekeeper who spoke to him and walks off into the night.

"Good stuff, Effie, good stuff," says one of the reporters after whistling down at his camera. "My editor is definitely going to be happy. Charming mayor, love struck couple of the century, and Peacekeepers heading off to protect the good citizens of this district with the mayor in tow. Gold."

"Glad to hear it, Jule."

"Glad to say it," he says, pushing some of his dark blue hair behind his ear and hefting his pack onto his shoulder. "Now are you going to give me an exclusive on why Haymitch isn't here with you three or what?"

The other two reporters laugh. "No exclusive on that, Jule," they say together making themselves laugh once more.

Jule joins their laughter. "Drunk again? And here I thought I might have had a story."

"You already have a story, Jule," Effie says. Her voice strains as her fingers contract against her wrap. "And if you want another one tomorrow I suggest you get a good night's sleep and focus on what's coming up."

"No need to get testy, Effie Lu," he says trying to smother his chuckles.

"It's Trinket, Jule," she says through gritted teeth. "You know that."

"Yeah, I know that," he says with a smirk. "Come on, you guys. Deadlines wait for no one."

Jule and the other two reporters walk back to train two. The faint sound of them daring each other to go wandering off can be heard, but Katniss saw the way they huddled together as they left. Every single one of them is going to make it back to their train and into his bed. Though she's not sure how long Jule is going to remain on tour. Effie doesn't take kindly to people calling her by her real last name. She'd canceled an interview for her and Peeta during their Games prep when the interviewer refused to call her Ms. Trinket instead of Ms. Lu. The woman told Effie it suited her. "Remember we used to call you '8' in school," she'd said with a chuckle. "Because you look like those people that run the dry cleaners in the Textile and Clothing district." Effie had promptly ushered her and Peeta out of the room, stating that the woman's editor, Jonathan, could call her if he had a problem with them walking out and that she'd gladly explain to him why she did. The woman must have gotten fired because the next day, Effie had gleefully told the both of them that Jonathan was going to do a complete spread on them which was more than what he was doing for the other Tributes.

Katniss watches as Effie composes herself and brushes a hand down her suit. "If you would just give me a moment, ladies," she starts. "I need to grab our bags." Effie heads over to the door of the train, picks up three small cases, hands one each to Peeta and Katniss, and keeps the third for herself. "Okay. All set," she says.

Both women nod. "Follow us," they say before they turn and begin making their way off the platform and down a dirt path.

"Wait, we're walking," asks Effie.

"Yes, M'am," the women say in unison without looking back at her.

"Mayor Cransberry didn't say anything about walking. I would have worn different shoes."

Peeta smothers a laugh.

Katniss hears the woman with short hair whisper something to the other but she can't understand it. She only knows that whatever it was caused the other woman to nudge her shoulder and shake her head.

"What are your names," asks Katniss.

The two women stop and turn around.

"Why do you wanna know our names," the woman with short hair asks.

"Why don't you want us to know your names," asks Katniss in return.

"It's only right that we know your names," says Peeta, stepping in. "You're helping us."

The one who asked the question raises an eyebrow. "We're required to help you," she says.

"Flor," the woman with the braid like a halo chides before once again whispering something that Katniss can't understand to her companion.

"Be that as it may, ladies," Effie says. "Would you please indulge my well mannered Victors?"

"My name is Lynn," says the woman with the braid. "And this is Flor."

Flor pulls her shawl tighter across her body with one hand. There's a stubborn quirk to her lips as she looks at them. Katniss wonders if she looks like that when she refuses to answer a question. Fierce, unmoving, and unbothered.

When Lynn clears her throat, Flor exhales and drops her guard slightly. "I'm sorry," she says. "It's just you're the first outsiders who've asked for our names. Victors come and go with barely a word to our people other than their victory speech."

Katniss nods. She gets that. "It's the same in our district," she says. 12 is only able to scrape together a dinner and a tour every year for the Victor of the Games. One year a Victor from District 1 couldn't even get Mayor Undersee's name right. The press couldn't stop laughing. She remembers wanting to punch the boy in the face.

Suddenly a loud bang is heard. Birds go flying from the trees lining the path, squawking in fright. Effie screams nearly jumping out of her skin trying to get closer to Peeta and Katniss. Katniss has turned Peeta into her side, arm slung around him, head turning left and right trying to place where the sound came from. "What the hell was that," she asks.

Lynn and Flor are standing closer together. Lynn's arm is around Flor's waist. She's whispering, "It's just a critter, Flor. Nothin' to worry about. Just shootin' a critter."

"What do you mean it's just a critter," asks Peeta, his voice wavers. Katniss clutches him tighter to her. The adrenaline the bang triggered makes her want to take off running into the woods with Peeta, Victory tour be damned. Except there are no woods here. Only a line of trees and land that stretches on for miles. It's unsettling. There's nowhere to hide.

"The Peacekeepers shoot any predators they see on sight so they don't get to any of the crops or animals," says Lynn. She rubs soothing circles into Flor's side. They're a near perfect reflection of Katniss and Peeta's positions until Flor steps out of Lynn's hold.

"We should continue," Flor says, her words come out shaken and weak. She ignores Lynn reaching for her and starts walking again. There's a tremor quaking through her hands that makes her lantern quiver.

Lynn sighs and falls in step with her. They move as one. It reminds Katniss of her and Gale. They have no forest but Katniss wonders if Flor and Lynn steal off together when they can. If one of them talks about wanting things to be better and the other listens. If Lynn moving closer to Flor until their shoulders are nearly touching is like Gale sitting next to her when she's sad but doesn't want to talk. She's never told Gale that those moments are about her father but she likes to think that he just knows. Maybe Flor and Lynn are like that, too.

A shot rings out again. They all jump except for their guides who stiffen but keeping moving.

Katniss tightens her hold on Peeta. She can hear Flor whispering, "It's a critter. Just a critter." Lynn's arm is back around Flor's waist.

All around them is silent save for the wind rustling the leaves on the trees. Katniss can't help sweeping her eyes about. They're in a district overrun by crops and livestock, and there is a 35 foot fence between them and whatever it is the Peacekeepers are shooting. Katniss should feel safe but Flor's breaths are shuddery and Lynn keeps whispering what sounds like "Staben, Flor. Staben." which doesn't make any sense to her. It's making Katniss jittery. She wants to run, go somewhere she knows is safe, somewhere she can protect Peeta. Katniss wants to go home, but then she remembers she can't go home without risking the lives of the people she cares about. She feels helpless, and it frustrates her.

"I'm okay, Katniss," says Peeta. "You can let go now." But Katniss doesn't let go. Her fingers stay gripped in the fabric of his shirt. At some point she'd slipped her hand under his blazer. She doesn't know when but now she can't get herself to let go and step back. Every instinct is telling her to keep him close.

"Katniss," he says, but she still doesn't let go.

She shakes her head.

"It's okay," he tries again, but her fingers stay curled around his shirt.

Peeta sighs and wraps his arm around her shoulder.

Katniss keeps her eyes peeled though a part of her settles at the weight of Peeta's arm around her. She tries to let Lynn's soft assurances to Flor help calm her, too. _There's no threat. It's just an animal. Calm down_. She focuses on their surroundings. The branches of the trees hang low, bowed, as if their leaves are teardrops. They look like they're weeping. Katniss turns her head away. _Everything is fine_.

"Are gun shots a common occurrence in this district," Effie asks. Her hands are claw like around the suitcase she is holding close to her chest. She's pulling up the rear standing as close as possible to Katniss and Peeta's backs without actually being on top of them.

"Yes and no," says Lynn. She doesn't elaborate.

"What does that mean," asks Effie with a slight shrill. "Either it's usual or it's unusual. Do creatures get in here a lot? Should I be worried about a bear attack? What about wolves?"

"You have nothin' to worry about," says Flor, her hands are still shaking.

"What she means," Lynn begins. "Is that sometimes predators prowl around the cow herds outside the fence."

Effie relaxes. "Oh, outside the fence," she says in relief. "Of course. Yes, silly me."

Flor mumbles something but all Katniss can catch is, "...mata...hen..te..."

 _Matter? Hens say?_ Katniss tries to make sense of the rapidly fired whispers between Flor and Lynn, but every snatch of their conversation she hears leaves her further confused. She knows that people's accents change across Panem, but this is different. None of what Flor and Lynn are saying to one another sounds like Common Speak, but that's impossible. There is only Common Speak and what's coming from their guides sounds like nothing she's ever heard before.

"Wow," says Effie interrupting Katniss' thoughts and stepping around Peeta and Katniss to walk next to Lynn. "I'd heard the District 11 mayor's house was in the old south style but I'd assumed those people knew nothing about the architecture of the U.S. Sadly, no one knows what those initials stand for anymore but I know a U.S. house when I see one. "

At the end of the path is a large white house. A single lantern burns brightly before the door. Six pillars support the roof of the building along with a balcony that stretches the length of the house. On the porch a young boy stands waiting for them. He can't be more than seven with brown curly hair that frames his sweet face. One springy coil dangles above the tip of his nose brushing against the pale skin that spreads from the ridge of his nose to his cheeks before abruptly becoming the same warm brown as Lynn's.

The boy reminds Katniss of a child in the Seam whose skin began to become pale. It had started at the girl's fingers and then the skin around her ears began to change, too. Her arms were a mixture of olive and white tones but her legs were as golden brown as her face. The girl had punched a Town boy who dared tease her about it. She'd said that he had shit for brains and he'd told her at least he wasn't the color of shit and spoiled milk. They had to haul the girl off of him, she was screaming so loud and clawing at his face. The Town boy was all scraped up and when his face finally healed he had two thin scars running from his temple to his chin. His parents tried to bring the girl up on charges but she was an orphan with no family to represent her; she had nothing to give in reparations. Mayor Undersee told the boy's mother that it was a lesson in courtesy and humility well learned. Nobody ever said a word to the girl about her skin again. Katniss wonders if the boy on the porch is as alone as that Seam girl is in the world. If he has to defend himself or if he has a sibling to help him. If it had been Prim being teased, Katniss can't say she wouldn't have done worse.

When Lynn sees the boy she hurries up the steps of the porch, looking side to side before resting a hand on his shoulder. "Theo, what are you doin' here," she asks.

Theo peeks around Lynn. "I wanted to see Katniss."

 _Why would he want to see me?_ , Katniss wonders as she gets locked in his gaze. When Theo waves at her, she waves back hesitantly but automatically like it's a compulsion. There's something about him that makes her not want to look away, something familiar that she can't quite place.

"Well, you've seen her now get goin'," says Lynn. "Don't have your momma and daddy worryin' for nothin'."

Theo tears his eyes away from Katniss and looks up at Lynn. He looks defiant, brows furrowed, and lips turned down though it's about as effective as it was for Prim when she was his age. His shoulders drop when Lynn doesn't budge. "I had good reason," he says, looking down and passing his foot back and forth over the wood of the porch.

Lynn releases a breathe of air and bends at the knees so she is at his level. She smoothes her hand across his hair before placing it back on his shoulder. "Ain't no good reason after what they've lost, child, now get on," she says.

The boy pouts and says, "Yes, Tía," to the alarm of Lynn who tries to rush him on but he plants his feet on the bottom step of the porch and looks up at Katniss. His eyes remind her of someone's but she can't think of who.

Theo says, "Thank you," while bringing his hand to his lips and moving it forward. He doesn't give her a chance to respond before he takes off running down a path to the right. _Thank you? Why would he be thanking me? And why did he look so familiar?_

"Tia?" Peeta asks. "I thought your name was Lynn?"

"It is," she says, her focus still on Theo, fingers restless against the handle of her lantern.

"Then why--"

"It means 'Aunt'," Flor says walking up the steps of the porch to stand next to Lynn and slide her hand into hers. "The children here tend to call the women tía whether they're related to them or not."

"Why," he asks.

"It's just the way it's always been," says Flor with a shrug. "Do you always ask this many questions?"

"Are you always this defensive?" Peeta replies.

Katniss is surprised by him. Peeta's usually more polite than this, but there's clearly something Flor and Lynn aren't telling them, and Peeta's the type to keep pushing for answers to his questions. Like Flor, Katniss doesn't like it.

"Please don't mention to Mayor Cransberry that Theo was here," Lynn says after he is no longer in sight. Flor holding her hand hasn't made her stop fidgeting. She's had to put the lantern down on a nearby chair in order to worry her shawl with her fingers.

"Why," Peeta asks, ignoring Flor. "Is it because that was Rue's brother?"

Katniss turns to Peeta, but then looks off in the direction Theo went.

"How do you figure," Lynn asks. She's stopped fidgeting and has gone ramrod straight, stiffened by shock.

"His eyes," he says. "They're the same as Rue's."

Flor attempts to laugh his suggestion away, but it sounds wrong and rings falsely in the air. "Brown eyes don't make you kin, Peeta," she says. "If it did, darn near everybody in this district would be related in some fashion."

"No," Peeta says. "Not just their color. Also their shape. Round and wide." His eyes glass over as he continues to describe Rue's eyes, almost as if he's painting a verbal picture for them all. Katniss stares as Peeta gets lost in the description.

"Innocent but with a spark of life and a bit of mischief. If a color could be kind that color would live in the brown hue of Rue's eyes." Peeta laughs softly. "He even stands like her. Feet apart, ready to fly off if necessary. Like a bird."

When he finishes, both Flor and Lynn have tears gathering in their eyes.

Peeta blinks as if waking from a dream.

"That was beautiful," says Effie with a small smile.

Katniss doesn't say anything. She can't. Her throats working too hard to keep her emotions at bay.

"You can't tell Mayor Cransberry that Theo was here," Lynn repeats, she almost sounds like she's begging.

Peeta's brows come together, puzzled. "Why would we?"

"You just can't," says Flor firmly. "Now will you please drop it?"

Peeta opens his mouth to say something else, but Effie stops him with a hand to his arm. "There's a bit of a chill, ladies," she says, trying to diffuse the tension. "Maybe we should head inside."

Lynn hums in agreement, eyes shifting briefly to the path Theo ran down before stepping back so that Flor can unlock the door with a key that she pulls from her skirt pocket.

The house would be pitch dark if not for Flor and Lynn's lanterns. They set them on a table in the middle of the foyer, and pluck long matchsticks from the pot on the table, reaching into the lamps for a share of their flames. One by one they light the candlesticks around the room until the room is better lit.

Before them all are black checkered floors, the flames of the candles flicker their reflections across the shiny marble. A two sided staircase bounds up from the floor to the upper level of the house.

"Not to be rude, but what about electricity," Effie asks while looking up, down, and around the room.

"Come night they direct all power toward the fence," says Flor.

"So, it's off then?"

"Yes, Ms. Trinket. The power is off," says Lynn. She hands Effie a candle in a holder. "Your room is up the left staircase. It's the door all the way at the end of the hall."

Effie accepts the holder though it's clear she doesn't quite know what to do with it. She looks at Lynn then back at the candle and then back at Lynn again. "Is this all the light I'll have for the night?"

"No, M'am," says Lynn. "There's a lantern and an oil lamp in your room."

Effie nods woodenly. "Right," she says and then turns to Peeta and Katniss. "Seems we'll just have to suffer through, loves. I will see you bright and early for breakfast. Big day tomorrow. In your suitcases are night clothes and the outfits Cinna and Portia have picked out for the morning's activities. More details once we've gotten some sleep and the power back. Goodnight."

She heads up the stairs, but pauses midstep and turns back to them all. "Uh, Lynn. I just realized I don't know how to light an oil lamp. Can you please assist me?"

Flor gives Lynn an exasperated look, but Lynn shakes her head with a small smile, whispers something that Katniss doesn't quite catch, and gathers her skirts to climb the steps.

When they disappear into the black of the house, Flor looks over at Peeta and Katniss. "Your rooms are up the right staircase," she says. "Peeta, yours is the last door on the left, and yours, Katniss, is at the end of the hall. Now, if ya'll excuse me, I've to--"

"Wait," says Peeta. "What is that you and Lynn keep speaking?"

"What are you talkin' about," Flor asks. She's tired of him and his questions.

"On the path, Lynn kept saying 'Staben' to calm you down," he says. "And just now she said something else that doesn't sound like Common Speak. What is that?"

"Why do you care?"

"I'm curious."

Flor sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose with her fingers. "Look, if I tell you, will you stop asking questions?" When Peeta nods she says, "We're not supposed to talk about this with outsiders. You can't tell the mayor."

"There's a lot we can't tell the mayor apparently," says Peeta.

Flor glares at him, prompting Katniss to stand in front of him a bit and glare right back. Their guide is not a threat, and Peeta is being irritatingly insistent about this, but she still doesn't like the look Flor is giving him.

"The mayor sees you as his boy," says Flor. "All that honey he's throwin' your way has to do with way you look and your humble beginnings. I'm just makin' sure you don't go sayin' anythin' to him because you think you're friends."

"I wouldn't do that. I'm not stupid," Peeta says at the same time Katniss asks, "What does that have to do with his question?"

Flor considers him before answering Katniss. "Everything," she says. "He don't look like he belongs here in the heart of District 11. Not out here in the fields, but you do, chica. Como Los Moreno Negros speaking La Lengua while picking fruit for those vacas in the Capitol."

"La Lengua," asks Peeta.

"Si," says Flor, crossing her arms.

"Common speak," Katniss grits out. Not knowing what Flor is saying has her bristling, but Peeta looks calm as if they aren't talking about something they shouldn't be. They're in a foyer not an open meadow miles behind a fence that few trespass over. Anybody could hear them, anybody could walk in. It's not safe and yet Flor and Peeta continue on as if they're hushed voices won't travel beyond this room.

"La Lengua is the Speak of the people here," says Flor. "We talk Common Speak around the Mayor and the Peacekeepers, but to one another hablamos con nuestra verdadera voz. We speak with our true voice."

"There is only one Speak," Katniss says.

"Are you sure," Flor asks with a smirk. "Because I can go on speakin' to you like this o hablando contigo como esto. En El District 11, nosotros hablamos Common Speak y La Lengua. Comprende? Or do you need me to repeat it?"

"So, what you're saying is that that's a lie," Peeta asks.

"What I'm sayin' is that La Lengua is the Speak of my people. Just because it isn't acknowledged by the Capitol doesn't mean it's not Speak."

"Does everyone speak it," asks Peeta.

"Most," says Flor. "My abuela used tell us stories about how the Morenos and the Negros came together under La Lengua. One people, Los Moreno Negros, united by Speak. There is freedom in La Lengua. Choice."

"Flor," hisses Lynn as she makes her way downstairs. "What are you doin'?"

"Peeta asked," she answers. "Like he's been askin' since we reached the house. I thought if I finally answered he would hush up."

"I'm sorry if--" Peeta begins but Lynn barrels right through his sentence with her own.

"Don't ask questions," Lynn says trying not to speak too loudly but only just succeeding. She looks mad. "You're here for a coupla days. Don't go stir anythin' you won't be seein' the consequences of. It ain't right. It ain't how it's done. You ain't here to learn; You're here to smile, say some pretty words, and then leave never to see or think of us again. That's how it works."

"It's just Speak," says Katniss even though she knows it's not. Speak doesn't need to be talked about in the dark. It's not a secret to be hidden away or whispered under the cover of fright.

"No, girl, it ain't," says Lynn. She sounds frustrated like out of her and Peeta, Katniss should be the one to know better. "There ain't no such thing as just Speak. There be power in words. You got outta the Games together because of the things you said, remember?"

Her statement dries up Katniss' reply.

"Now, if you two would be so kind as to head up to your rooms," says Lynn after taking a calming breath. "Flor and I will get the house settled for the night." She hands them each a candle holder and ushers them up the stairs.

Peeta turns back. "Again, I'm sorry if we--" he says but Lynn cuts him off once more with a wave of her hand.

"Hush," she says. "There's no need for that just follow what I said. Don't go askin' people questions around here. Some things aren't for you."

Peeta nods, but in the dim light of their candles, Katniss can't tell if it's just a gesture to appease Lynn or if he means it. She hopes it's the latter.

As they climb the steps, Katniss overhears Lynn quietly scolding Flor. "Esposa, that was dangerous," she whispers. "What if Cransberry had walked in?"

Katniss watches as Flor presses her forehead against Lynn's. "I'm sorry. Peeta kept askin' and in the middle of it all I realized it was important for Katniss to listen."

"At the risk of your own life?"

"Corazón, I..."

"No, Flor," Lynn says, turning away from her. "Not tonight. Just help me get the house settled so we can go home. I'm tired." She walks off leaving Flor standing in the foyer by herself.

Flor sniffs as her shoulders slump. "Go to bed, Katniss," she says as she begins to blow out the candles in the room. "You, too, Peeta."

The struggle to keep the blush from mounting her cheeks is all Katniss concentrates on as she continues walking down the hall with Peeta.

They stop in front of Peeta's door. "So," he says. "La Lengua, huh? Who would have thought there was something other than Common Speak?"

"Peeta," Katniss says, shaking her head.

He laughs, "What? Afraid the walls have ears?"

 _Yes_ , she thinks.  _That's exactly what I fear._ "I think we should get some rest like Lynn said."

"Alright. Well, goodnight, Katniss."

"Goodnight." She steps back so he can set his suitcase down and open the door, and she makes to turn toward hers, but waits until she hears the soft click of his door closing to go into her own room.

Katniss takes time to take in her surroundings. The bed is on the left wall. Its medium sized and made of wood. There's a dresser in the far right corner by the window. A long mirror stands in the opposite corner. The room is decorated sparsely. There's an electric lamp on the nightstand by the bed. A rug made of some type of animal skin lays unfurled in the middle of the room. Shadows creep to the side of each object but they don't put Katniss on alert like the open path she walked down earlier. The soft tick and tock of the clock on the wall by the door is the only sound she hears. Feeling like she's peered through every nook and cranny in the room, Katniss places her suitcase on the bed's flowery comforter and gets ready to go to sleep. She sets her candleholder on the nightstand and she settles under the covers once she's hung up her dress for tomorrow. Katniss notices the door that must connect to Peeta's room before she blows out the flame. She stares at it wondering what he's doing. If he's going to sleep, too, or looking out the window like he was on the train. She wonders if he thinks about her like she thinks about him, and Prim, and Gale, and Snow. Always President Snow with his demand that she convince him of her love for Peeta.

The memory of Peeta's arm around her comes to mind as Katniss shifts to lay on her side. His fingers brushed softly against her shoulder. Even with her thoughts on keeping him safe, she couldn't help but be aware of the feel of his fingertips against the fabric of her dress. As she gripped his shirt tightly in her fist, he moved his palm in gentle circles. Round and around, never slowing, always at a steady pace. Peeta's touch soothes Katniss but there's also this spark that climbs and melts in her belly like he's stoking a fire in her. She can't put a name to the feeling but it makes her need to hold onto him, to pull him closer until all he can see is her and all she can breath is him. That feeling is confusing because when Peeta's not touching her, when he's barely looking at her, Katniss wants to keep the distance between them intact. She's constantly warring between her lukewarm wariness of his indifferent attention and her desire to have him speak to her like he used to.

Peeta told her to let him know when she figured out her feelings, and as days went by without a word from her about that conversation his ability to speak to her outside of obligation waned. Weeks went by, then months, and Katniss found herself still confused with the addition of a slow burning anger. An anger that she grabs on to and lets lull her to sleep, her face still turned toward Peeta's door.

 

* * *

 

Katniss picks at the runny eggs on her plate, careful not to get the pure white sleeve of her dress in the way. The rest of the table is alive with conversation. Mayor Cransberry had been "gracious" enough to allow Haymitch, Cinna, and Portia to join them for breakfast. In his words, "It's what any gentleman would do, open his home to the caretakers of a Victor." Katniss muttering, "You didn't open your home last night," earned her a pinch from Effie whose smile looked painful. "Victors, Mayor. Plural. And Haymitch, like me is their mentor, while Cinna and Portia are their stylists," she'd said. "Nobody is a caretaker."

Mayor Cransberry's voice lost it's cheeriness at her comment. "Are you going to continue to keep correcting me, Ms. Trinket," he'd asked.

"Only when you're mistaken," Effie had said, smile overly sweet. "Now, I believe you said breakfast is ready."

After that uncomfortable interaction, Cransberry has spent the meal speaking only to Peeta. Cinna and Portia are in their own little world as usual, whispering and stealing bits of toast off the others plate while Haymitch moodily nibbles on a corn muffin. Effie's no drinking policy kicked in the minute Haymitch walked in the door, and Haymitch is never more irritable than when he hasn't had his morning coffee and liquor, heavy on the liquor. Effie swipes her finger across her tablet in between sips of her peppermint tea. She smiles or shakes her head with every pass of her finger on the screen.

 _I wonder if she's looking at wedding dresses_ , Katniss thinks. She wouldn't put it past President Snow to make some kind of suggestion to her. Effie has always been about the next big story and "the star-crossed lovers of District 12" tying the knot would be the biggest. Effie would be ecstatic, forcing her into dress after dress made by the top designers, lining up interviews, talking endlessly about the "happy couple" and winking about upcoming children. _Babies that will be the talk of every channel and magazine in the Capitol. So much so that Peeta and I will be pressured into moving to the Capitol because of "the demand". I'll have to leave Prim and Gale and the woods. My kids will be within reach of Snow, there'll be no escape. There'll be no way to protect them or Peeta. I'll be trapped._

Katniss drops her fork which clatters on the plate. Talk at the table goes quiet, but she doesn't notice. Her lungs are caving in, they're shriveling up and every time she reaches for a breathe, she misses. _Breathe. Breathe._ Faintly, Katniss hears Haymitch calling her name. She focuses on his voice. _You're not alone_ , she thinks. _You're not alone. Breathe_.

"Katniss?"

She inhales and winces at the sound of Peeta's voice. "I'm fine," Katniss says. It's weak and not at all convincing. Her voice is hoarse like her panic scratched the lining of her throat, like a scream was caged and forced back down into the pit of her stomach, but at least she answered. _He's not supposed to know_ , she thinks. _I can do this. He doesn't need to know._

"You don't look--"

"I said I'm fine, Peeta," she says, this time a little stronger than the last. Katniss reaches for her glass of water and drinks some ignoring all the eyes on her. She wills her hand not to shake until it's safely back in her lap and out of sight.

"Now, don't chew the boy out for being concerned," says Cransberry. There's an edge to his voice. Irritation simmers in his words. "Best be glad he cares for a girl like yourself."

"What is that supposed to mean," Haymitch asks. He's turned his chair so that his body is facing Katniss. The hulk of his frame is tight as he glares at the mayor.

"Katniss is well aware of how much Peeta cares for her," says Effie who has set her tablet down. "It's well documented as is her care for him." She looks over at the mayor. "Would you like me to show you the highlight clip we put together for last night's reunion special?"

"No time, Ms. Trinket," Cransberry says dragging his eyes away from Haymitch to look down at his watch. "I've got to tend to my fields." He stands up.

"Oh, Mayor, before I forget," says Effie after a sip of her tea. "We're going to need a guide to take us to Rue and Thresh's family homes like we talked about. I was able to squeeze in a little time before the district tour for a short meet. I was thinking either Lynn or Flor if they're available."

Katniss freezes. _Meet Rue's family?_

"Neither," he says.

"Well, anyone will do."

"None will do, Ms. Trinket, because the meeting ain't happenin'."

 _Her parents?_ Katniss pictures a man and woman around Rue's coloring. Possibly lighter or darker. She imagines standing before them, in their home, looking at the place Rue used to live. Where she ate and slept. The place she called home. Katniss' hands start to hurt. She clasps them together but they throb anyway.

"Mayor, we went over this. I've already cleared this with the proper channels. It's been green lit."

 _Her siblings?_ Theo flashes before Katniss' eyes, peering up at her with the same deep brown eyes as Rue, the cream of a too big shirt slipping down his arm. She still doesn't know why he thanked her. She didn't save Rue. He doesn't have his sister anymore because she was too late. She doesn't deserve thanks.

"But you didn't clear it with me! They're mine. I will decide who will and will not see them not some porcelain upstart."

_I can't._

"I would watch how you speak to me, Mayor Cransberry. The differences between you and I begin with me being a Capitol citizen and you crawling your way up from the cobble streets of District 2 to land in the dirt of District 11."

"You, woman, are nothin' but--"

_I can't._

"I'm merely trying to follow through on a request made by one of my Victors."

Katniss looks up. She stares at Effie who's looking at Mayor Cransberry. Her cheeks are flushed and her jaw is tight. _I didn't ask for this_.

Cransberry sneers. "Let me guess. The girl--"

 _I didn't ask for this_ , Katniss thinks as she turns to look at the mayor. Her hands are balled into fists. _I would never ask for this_. Cransberry reminds her of the Townsfolk with the way they look down their noses at the Seam members. He looks at her dismissively one second and then accuses her the next. Watching her like she's going to take something or say something that will inevitably upset him.

Effie cuts him off again. "Her name is Katniss, and it was Peeta who wanted the meeting."

 _Peeta?_ All the fight whooshes out of Katniss. Her hands go slack. She turns to him.

Mayor Cransberry only allows the surprise on his face to linger a moment before he closes his mouth and looks over at Peeta. "Son," he says, voice soft like it wasn't raised a second ago. "You realize that a meeting with the family of fallen tributes is unprecedented."

"Yes," Peeta says. He's not looking at Cransberry. He's staring down at his plate, shoulders stiff. Katniss can't see his face, can't tell what he's thinking. _Why? Why would you do that?_

He looks up, catches Katniss' eyes, and says, "I thought it would be good for Katniss."

 _Good for me?_ Katniss can't discern the look on Peeta's face, all she knows is that it makes her feel like churning water. Circular patterns that's what her life has become. No one asks her what she wants; they just decide. Even Peeta, especially Peeta. He chose to tell all of Panem that he loves her, he chose to keep his distance when she couldn't return his feelings the way he wanted her to, and now he's chosen to ask Effie for something that he had no right to ask for. Peeta makes choices like he's always had them in abundance, and he makes choices for her like she won't mind like he knows what's best for her. Well, Katniss minds, and Peeta doesn't know what is best for her; he doesn't even know her.

"I'm not going," says Katniss but it's too low for them to hear.

"It will also be good for ratings," Effie chimes in. "Two Victors meeting the families of their allies. When Peeta came to me with this I was blown away. Why the optics alone," she gushes and starts quoting numbers at the mayor. "This district has some of the worst ratings for Victory stops in the history of the Games. Absolutely abysmal. The meet would be a game changer. We'll shoot it right before the tour, take a few photos, and have a little interview."

"I said I'm not going," she says loudly this time.

"Katniss," Peeta starts, but she ignores him.

"I'm not going to meet Rue and Thresh's families."

"Now, Katniss," Effie tries. "I know this will be hard but think of the--"

"I don't care," Katniss cuts in. "I'm not going." She throws her napkin on her plate and storms off. All she can think about is Rue. Her laughing, sticking her tongue out, calling her a slowpoke, snuggling into her side to sleep. The trust in Rue's eyes. Faith that she had an ally, someone who would help her survive. And she died. Rue was yelling for her, and she didn't make it in time. She failed her. _Rue is dead because of me. It's my fault._

"Katniss!"

She hears Haymitch say, "Let her go, Effie," as she runs to the stairs. Tiny rainbow beams of light skitter up the hem of her white skirt because of the glittering chandelier as she climbs the steps intent on going to her room. But by the time she makes her way to the second landing, the lure of the sun shining through the glass doors of the balcony grabs a hold of her. Katniss turns the gold knobs and runs out into the sun.

It's bright. The blue of the sky is dotted with a few clouds and the land stretched beneath them is sprawled wide and flat. The crops are a blurry image in the distance along with the fence. Katniss walks to the railing of the balcony, gliding her hands across the ridged metal. _District 11 is so different from District 12_. When she hears the hard sound of soles against wood Katniss sighs. "Not now, Haymitch."

"Sorry to disappoint, but it's just me."

Katniss looks over her shoulder. Peeta is standing by the door cast in the shadow of a cloud. When it moves light streams down on him lightening the blue of his eyes and brightening his ash blonde hair. He's almost hard to look at like a star that's too close for comfort. Katniss turns back to the view neither inviting him to join her nor asking him to leave. She doesn't mean for it to be a dismissal, but if he takes it as one she won't object. There's nothing she has to say to him right now. Between the release of the anger she held tightly to at the table to keep from falling apart, how tired she is of people making decisions for her, and the memory of Rue that haunts her every step, Katniss doesn't have the energy to stay mad at him or pretend.

Peeta settles next to her. They are two hand lengths apart. Katniss wonders when she's going to stop thinking of the distance between them through measurements of touch. It's funny how being indifferent to his presence doesn't stop her from being intensely aware of him. She notices the peach of his skin peeking through the near translucence of his black shirt and how the breeze twirls through his hair.

"What was that back there," he asks, gaze still locked on the horizon.

"Nothing."

"Look, Katniss," Peeta says shifting so that he's looking at her. "Setting up the meeting with Rue and Thresh's families was me trying to apologize for my behavior on the train after the Games."

Katniss stares at the space between their hands, avoiding his gaze. Peeta's fingers are lighter at the tips than the rest of his skin; she never noticed that before.

"I wanted to let you know that I get it," he continues. "You were just trying to keep us alive and there are more important things than my hurt feelings."

When Peeta says, "I knew you had something with Gale," he captures her full attention; the shifting tints of his skin forgotten.

"Hell everyone knows," he says with a laugh that doesn't sound like it belongs to him at all. "But still I..." Peeta ducks his head before looking back at Katniss. "I was jealous," he says, running a hand through his hair.

Katniss stares at him, breaths coming a little quicker as Peeta goes on.

"I've been jealous of Gale since before I even officially met you," he says. "And I know that's not an excuse for me not handling what you said well but it's the truth. Holding you to what happened in the Games wasn't fair. I'm sorry."

Katniss doesn't know what to do with Peeta's apology and the sincerity of it. She can't say that she doesn't hold his silence against him because she does. And she didn't lead him on, she played his game. He's the one who got caught up, the one who turned away. Katniss isn't sure what she thought they'd be after the Games but barely speaking was not it.

The expectant look on Peeta's face begins to fade the longer Katniss remains quiet until finally it disappears completely. With a shake of his head, Peeta makes to leave, turning his back on her.

Katniss is so tired of seeing him walk away from her. Every time reminds her of the first time. So, she tells him a truth that only feels a little like a lie. "I'm not with Gale."

"What," Peeta asks as he slowly turns to face her.

"Gale's my best friend," Katniss says. _I'm not lying_ , she thinks. _I'm not with Gale. We aren't_...A flash of their kiss crosses her mind and the feel of his arms around her waist holding her to him. Katniss pushes the image away and lowers her eyes so that Peeta can't see that she's struggling to say this. _I'm not with Gale. I can't be_. "I'm sorry, too." _Sorry that we're in this mess_.

"There's nothing for you to be sorry about," says Peeta as he moves to stand before her. "I'm the one who...," he stops and starts again. "The point I'm trying to make is that I don't want to go on like this. Avoiding one another in real life and smiling emptily at each other for the camera is exhausting. So, I thought if I stopped being so wounded we could take a shot at being friends."

"Okay," Katniss says. A friend is what she needs most right now and in spite of all that has happened, she'd like to count Peeta as one of hers. "But if we're going to be friends I'm going to need you to do something for me."

"Anything," Peeta says without hesitation.

"Don't make decisions for me. I don't like it."

"Alright."

Katniss ignores the guilt she feels. _It's different for him_ , she reasons. _The Capitol loves him. He'll get through this tour fine. He doesn't need to know. I don't need to tell him_.

"So, um, do you want to get out of here," Peeta asks.

"Yeah, I'd like to go home," Katniss says. _Home to the woods. With Prim and Gale. Where everything makes sense._

"No, I mean do you want get out of the house for a bit? We have some down time before the tour of the district."

"Oh, sure," she says. It comes out more like a question than a statement, but it's enough for Peeta. He grabs her hand and leads her through the house, past the dining room where only Haymitch and Effie remain at the table, and out the front door. In the daylight, the path they walked down the night before is alive with the tweeting of songbirds in the willows instead of the hooting of owls.

Peeta lets go of Katniss' hand to walk backwards. "You know what's strange," he says. "I know you'd risk your life to save mine but I don't even know what your favorite color is."

"It's green," she says. "Like the color of grass in the summer. What's yours?"

"Orange."

Katniss scrunches her nose up. "Like carrots?"

"No," Peeta replies affronted. "Like a sunset."

Katniss looks at the sky and thinks of the mix of colors it becomes as the sun sets. The pinks, blues, reds, and purples that appear before night creeps in. The soft shades of orange as the sun dips under the horizon. She wonders if Peeta's painted one. "Hey, Peeta?"

Peeta hums in response, face tipped toward the sun.

"What is it about colors that you love so much?"

Peeta stops and waits for Katniss to catch up to him. When she stops in front of him he tells her to look up.

"What color do you see," he asks.

Katniss feels a little silly but she answers him. "Blue."

"I see cerulean," he says. "Earlier this morning it was turquoise, all soft and sleepy-like as the birds sang the world awake. I like colors because they change moods and reflect emotions. Sometimes they explain things better than words do."

"That why you paint?"

"Amongst other reasons."

"I feel bad," Katniss says. "I've never seen any of your paintings."

"That can be fixed," Peeta says with a grin, "I've got a whole train car full of them. Come on."

On their way to the train, Peeta and Katniss talk about the small things like the fact that Katniss would choose sugar cookies over oatmeal raisin and Peeta's horror over that choice. Also Ms. Hansby, their upper grade Panem history teacher, and her insistence on having each student stand and read from their school book instead of actually teaching.

"I feel like I'm back at nursery and it's circle time," Peeta says as they enter the train.

Katniss laughs so hard that her eyes crinkle and she misses the Capitol reporter taking photos of them, his cigarette forgotten on the ground as he shoots away.

The room Peeta takes Katniss to is not what she expected. She knew that Effie gave him a place to store his paintings but she'd pictured a small space meant only for storage. This room looks like it was specifically designed for Peeta to paint in. In one corner scraps of paper litter the floor. They are all different colors, some crumpled, some jagged around the edges like they were ripped out of something. On the left wall are multi-colored chalk drawings of various flowers grouped together, their stems weaving in, around, and through each other. Blank canvases line the other wall, all raging in size. The far wall has a tarp tacked to its surface, below it is a black rack full of paintings. A wooden easel stands beside the rack.

Peeta walks over to the paintings and pulls them out, lining them against the wall. "I haven't started anything new," he says. "These are all the ones I did back home." When he runs out of space for the largest one, Peeta places it on the easel and moves it forward. It's a painting of Katniss on the day Peeta and the Careers found her up in a tree. She's standing on a branch staring down with a look daring them to come after her.

Katniss remembers taunting the Careers, trying to goad them into making fools of themselves. The move was a show of confidence and cockiness that she hadn't honestly felt at the time. Truth be told, Katniss wasn't sure how she was going to get out of the situation alive. _In fact, it had been Rue who_ , she thinks before running away from that thought and looking at the other paintings.

A small canvas is leaned against the wall next to the easel. The picture Peeta painted is of water dripping through the cracks of their cave. Beside it is one of a pair of hands--peach in color with tiny cuts across the palms-- digging for roots; they're Peeta's hands. A portrait of Clove is next. She is arranging her knives inside her jacket whilst sitting on a rock. The forest around her looks like it's ready to swallow her up, and if it doesn't then the painting of Glimmer looks like it will. Glimmer's back is arched far past the human limit, and she's covered in fur, but there's no mistaking her for someone else. The same green, murderous gleam she had in her eyes as a girl remains present in them as a Mutt though her smile is more fierce with her sharpened canines. The most striking portrait is of Katniss lying in a pool of blood. Her face turned toward the viewer and her eyes closed. Katniss knows that she was unconscious in that moment, but looking at Peeta's work it's as if she's looking at herself dead. She takes a step back.

"So, what do you think?"

Katniss looks up at Peeta and then looks back at the paintings, eyes falling once again on her seemingly lifeless figure. "I hate them," she says. The smell of blood and dirt rises to the surface of her memory as she looks at each one. The stink of the Mutts, the stench of burnt earth, and the clammy sensation of fright induced sweat spring to mind when she looks at every stroke of Peeta's brush. His paintings are so realistic, she feels like she's almost back in the arena scared for her life and his. It's disturbing. "All I do is try to forget and you're bringing it back. Why would you do that?"

"I see them every night," Peeta says. "Clove, Glimmer, Cato, Marvel. You. Every night."

"Me, too," Katniss says, though she doesn't mention most of her dreams are of Rue and him. "Does it help to paint them?" She's used to night terrors, has had them since the mine explosion that took her father but her Games dreams are worse. Nothing has stopped them and nothing has calmed them so Katniss has learned to accept her nightmares as a part of her life.

"I don't know." Peeta returns the paintings to the rack as he speaks. "I think I'm a little less afraid to sleep which I guess is progress or at least that's what I keep telling myself." He looks back at Katniss. "You think they'll ever go away?"

Katniss wants to tell Peeta that with time everything will go back to the way it was before the Games, but six months of living in the aftermath has taught her that isn't possible. It seems that time just makes room for more sadness and more things to be afraid of. "Maybe. Maybe not," she says. "But Haymitch still gets them. He sleeps with the lights on and there's always some type of alcohol nearby."

"Yeah," Peeta says, his voice is low and tired. He turns to face her. "Though, I'd rather have a paintbrush in my hand than a tumbler. For me, alcohol just makes everything worse."

"You were drinking," Katniss asks, surprised. The thought of Peeta turning to spirits never crossed her mind, but then again prior to this moment she's never really given much thought to how Peeta's been handling life after the Games. She assumed fine. Outside of being short with her, he'd seemed okay. Katniss never saw his family come by but she figured they were busy with the bakery and that girl Delly seemed to come and go as she pleased. But all that sounds like excuses now that she knows he's been drinking. _Is he going to become Haymitch_ , she thinks and shudders at the thought.

"Aw, don't look at me like that, Katniss," Peeta says with a sigh.

"I'm not looking at you any kind of way." Katniss tries to rein in her concern, but she can tell that it's not working.

"Yes, you are." Peeta leans against the wall. His head makes a thunk against its surface as he stares up at the ceiling and crosses his arms. "Look, I'm not saying I was anywhere near Haymitch's level, okay? But, yeah, I drank a bit. Usually at night. Just enough to make me drowsy so I could sleep. I stopped when I realized it was harder to wake up from my dreams. All alcohol did was trap me in my head which isn't always a safe place. I learned my lesson, so will you stop looking at me like I'm a child who did something they weren't supposed to be doing?"

"I'm not...I don't...," Katniss stutters. "I know you're not a child."

"Sometimes, I really don't think you do."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing," he says.

His answer is clipped and somewhat bitter so she pushes. "It means something, Peeta."

"Katniss, I don't want to fight with you."

"I don't want to fight either. I just want to know what you mean. You think I treat you like a child?"

"It just means I can handle more than you think I can, alright?"

 _Well, what if I don't want you to have to handle more_ , Katniss thinks but lets the conversation drop.

Peeta changes the subject. "So, you really hate them? The paintings I mean."

"They're extraordinary," she says though her thoughts are still on his drinking. She pictures finding Peeta like she's found Haymitch: sprawled out, bottle in hand or rolling back and forth on the floor, a thin layer of grime on his skin. Katniss doesn't like the image. Peeta's paintings are definitely better even though she'd rather not see them ever again. "Really extraordinary, but I don't want to look at them anymore."

"Understood," Peeta says and stands up straight reaching out to grab Katniss' hand. "And I'm fine." He uses his thumb to smooth out the worry creasing her brows. "I promise."

Katniss doesn't believe him. She's seen that same haunted look reflected back at her in the mirror too many times to not recognize it, but still she says, "Okay," and wonders if the only reason she's seeing that look now is because Peeta is allowing her to.

 

* * *

  
Upon returning to the mayor's house, Katniss and Peeta are greeted with the sight of Effie pacing back and forth in the foyer and giving rapid instructions through the comm device in her ear. She holds up her finger signaling for Peeta and Katniss to give her a minute when she sees them.

"James, do you think I don't know how this is going to effect the ratings," she asks, face pinched as she jabs her finger against her ear. "It's out of our hands. The speech and the dinner are what's left. No, I'm not adding extra reporters. Why? Because the three I picked for the dinner are enough. We're sticking to the schedule."

Effie throws her hands up in the air, stops pacing, and places her hand on the table for support. Her face has gone from pinched to frustrated in the span of seconds. "I'm aware that the two magazine heads that were promised exclusives during the meet with the tributes' families and the tour are unhappy. There's nothing I can do about it at this juncture, James. I already handled their editors. How about you handle your side of things and let me take care of mine? Well, if they want another story, they are always welcome to cover the Victor speeches. No, I'm not being funny. This is the first time in history that two Victors will be giving speeches. If that's not enough of a story for them that's too bad; they'll have to wait until District 10. Just go ahead and set up the crew for the broadcast. That, thank goodness, is something that fool can't cancel."

"James, I am done with this conversation. Goodbye," Effie says and removes the device from her ear. She huffs out a breath before speaking to Katniss and Peeta. "Don't you two look like the perfect pair?"

Effie smiles but it doesn't reach her eyes until she shifts her gaze to their joined hands. "You should definitely walk out like that for your speech," she says softly, her smile transforming into a gentle curve. "That was the lovely image I wanted to capture today while you learned about the workings of District 11. Every Victor takes this tour, but there's never been a pair to do it. I had so much planned for today, but this, at least, is something Cransberry cannot sabotage."

"What happened," asks Peeta.

"I'm sure that simpleton canceled the tour just to spite me," Effie says bitterly, lip twitching like it wants to curl into a snarl. "The pettiness, I swear. All because I pushed about the Tributes' families."

"He thinks that because he's mayor of this...this," she says, spreading her arms wide. "This farmland, and don't get me wrong it's beautiful, but it's farmland nonetheless. He thinks because he's mayor of this farmland that he can speak to me anyway he pleases." Effie points to herself and laughs. "Me, a Capitol citizen. He's from the districts."

Peeta cringes at the distaste behind Effie's use of 'districts'.

Katniss narrows her eyes, her hand grips his tighter as Effie continues oblivious to their reactions as if she's simply speaking aloud to herself and not directly to them.

"He grew up with nothing and now he presumes that because he's overseeing something big that means he is something big," Effie says as she begins to pace and cut her hand through the air. "Well, I'll tell you right now it does not. Stonewall Cransberry is just a low ranked former Peacekeeper who weaseled his way up the rings of power, but he sits on that high horse of his like he's beyond reproach."

"All it would take is one phone call," Effie says turning to Peeta and Katniss. She holds up her finger. "One, and I could push him off that horse. President Snow told me to let him know if there was any trouble on this tour. Any trouble, he said, and he would personally take care of it. I have a mind to let our dear president know about Mayor Cransberry's behavior."

"Effie, you can't do that," Katniss says. She's trying so hard not to give away how scared she is, hoping desperately that neither Effie nor Peeta notices.

"Why shouldn't I," Effie asks crossing her arms. "Cransberry has upset the way things are done. I have this tour planned frontwards and backwards for optimum coverage and watchibility, and that man has stuck his dirty boot in the middle of my itinerary."

Effie stomps her foot. "I am not one to make accommodations for fools. I make accommodations for Victors, especially my Victors, and Cransberry is not either. Unlike you, he has not earned his place. He--"

"Earned? Effie, do you even hear yourself," Katniss says with disgust. She drops Peeta's hand and steps toward her mentor. "Children died." _Rue died_ , she thinks.

Effie doesn't look the least bit chastised, in fact, she looks exasperated as she drops her arms to her side and sighs. "Children die everyday, Katniss. So, do adults."

"I'm talking about murder, Ef--"

"What you did in the Games was not murder," Effie says vehemently, voice unrelenting and unwavering as she speaks. "It was killing, yes, but not murder, and you know that, Katniss. You and Peeta are champions. I would not be here if I thought you were murderers. You earned a better life for yourselves and your families. The Capitol is providing that to you, so I would appreciate it if you did not insinuate that your actions were criminal. Victors are not criminals; they are heroes that overcame the odds. The odds were not in your favor when you first began, but you swayed them your way along with Peeta. There's nothing wrong with acknowledging that."

"Effie, you don't know--"

"I do know," says Effie as she invades Katniss' space to place a hand on her chest. "I know that you have a kind heart, love, and sometimes I forget that in the face of all your strength. Haymitch told me you've been having a hard time because of your attachment to Rue. I am so sorry; I had no idea. I wouldn't have pushed had I known."

Katniss takes a step back. Her fists clench at her sides. She can't stand the sad, pitying look Effie is giving her as if she understands. As if she has ever understood what it is like for the people in the districts she despises so much.

Effie looks over Katniss' shoulder at Peeta. "I hope you apologized, too, Peeta."

"I did, but--"

"Good," Effie says with a nod and looks back at Katniss. "Now, go on upstairs, you two. Your prep teams are waiting for you. I know the speeches aren't for another three hours but I guess the good thing about this mess is that we won't have to rush."

"Effie, you're really not--," Katniss tries again, but it's no use. Effie's tablet beeps, she slips her comm device back in her ear, waves them toward the stairs, and turns her back to start yelling at James again.

Katniss feels Peeta pull on her arm, but she snatches it back, and stays glaring at Effie.

"Come on, Katniss."

"She...," she says, trailing off as anger trembles through the word.

"I know," Peeta whispers. "But what else is there to say that she'll listen to?"

 _That Snow is a murderer_ , Katniss thinks. _That he sends people off to their death every year. That he threatened to kill me and everyone I love and everyone they love. That she could be the one to sign our death warrants with one phone call._

"Nothing," Katniss answers. "There is nothing to say to someone like Effie." She lets Peeta lead her upstairs to get ready for their speeches.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed your latest trip into the world of Vorare. Feedback is much appreciated.


	3. part two: i've got blood on my name

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...it's been more than 7 months. I'm just going to stop making promises about getting this out in a timely fashion. I hope you like this installment. I worked hard on it and lived in it for quite some time; it was a labor of love.
> 
> I'd like to thank Shar for once again being an amazing beta and Ikea for being the best cheerleader a girl could have.
> 
> Title from Blood on my Name - The Brothers Bright

They're gathered in the foyer. Effie periodically looks down at her phone. Small, thin branches with budding flowers have been woven into her hair. They extend a few inches from her head and match the olive green dress she is wearing. She'd said, "I took the three hours we had to do something transformative," when she walked down the stairs, mood completely shifted away from the frustration and bitterness it had held strongly to just mere hours ago.

Katniss glares daggers at Effie's back. Her mood has not shifted; it hasn't even budged.

"You can't stare her to death, Katniss," Haymitch says. "I've tried."

Katniss turns her attention to him. He's leaning up against the wall once again in clothes that match Effie's. The olive color brings out the jeweled tones in Haymitch's dark brown skin, making him seem warmer than he is. Effie had even thought to place a few sprigs from her branches in the pocket square of Haymitch's suit. Katniss is sure she did it with a smile and a soft pat to his cheek, stating that if she can't change his grumpy countenance than she can at least add a little joy to his outfit. 

Haymitch looks handsome and clear-eyed which is a rarity for him, but Katniss still grumbles, "Was that before or after Effie limited your alcohol intake to two glasses of champagne tonight?" She's not willing to lose ground in her anger even though she does prefer him like this.

Haymitch lets out a low whistle. "Oh, somebody's pissy. Why is that, sweetheart?"

Katniss watches Effie laugh. There's a branch that looks like it's still a bit sharp. If she leans back enough she might just prick herself. Katniss wills Cinna to say something else Effie finds funny and crosses her arms. "Why do you listen to her?"

"Because someone asked me to help keep her loved ones alive, and I can't do that if I'm too drunk to see straight."

She unfolds her arms. "Why do I listen to her?"

"You already know the answer to that question."

 _My family and Gale's and_...Katniss' gaze drifts over to Peeta. He's leaning on the opposite wall watching Cinna and Effie banter with a small smile. When he notices Katniss looking at him the smile widens slightly. He mouths, "Hi."

Katniss finds herself mouthing the greeting in return unaware that she's begun to smile, too.

"Like I said, ass over tea kettle."

She blinks and turns her attention back to Haymitch. "What?"

Haymitch chuckles. "Nothing, sweetheart. Nothing at all."

Katniss narrows her eyes at him, but before she can respond Effie lets out a loud exasperated huff.

"Where is that man," Effie says, looking at the clock on her phone. "If we don't leave soon we're going to miss our start time." With a growl she pulls out her comm device. "Give me a moment. I'll just check to see--"

The doorbell rings.

Effie stuffs her device back in her bag. "That better be our ride," she says while opening the door. 

Standing in the doorway is a tall woman, her red hair pulled back into a severe ponytail and her face devoid of emotion. "Ms. Trinket," she says with a nod.

A Peacekeeper. One in leadership, Katniss thinks as she takes note of the woman's glistening white body armor, the District 11 sigil on her shoulder. 

Effie steps back. "How can I help you? Ms..."

"It's Captain, M'am," the Peacekeeper says while taking a step into the house. "Captain Cypress. My team and I have been sent to escort you all to the Square."

"Why was I not notified of this change," Effie asks, back going rigid and good mood evaporating into the air. 

"It was a last minute decision, M'am," Cypress says eyes straying to take a body count. Or at least that's what Katniss assumes. She's trying not to let her nerves rise, but there's something about this that doesn't feel right. _Did something happen?_

"All of his decisions are last minute it seems."

"It's for your safety."

Katniss stands up straighter. _Something did happen_. She looks at Haymitch. He has the same worried expression that she knows must be growing on her face as well.

Effie raises an eyebrow. "What are we in danger of? Fruit and vegetables being thrown at us? I believe the citizens of this district are much more civilized than that."

"Be that as it may, Ms. Trinket," Cypress says bringing her focus back to Effie. "I have orders."

_Or maybe something didn't. What is going on?_

Effie looks down at the time on her phone again and sighs. "Fine. Fine. But I have a few choice words for your mayor."

"Follow me," Cypress says as she turns on her heel and exits the house.

Outside a large armored truck sits in wait. Beside it are six Peacekeepers, their grey body armor shines brightly beneath the sun. They stand at rest, hands behind their back, feet slightly apart.

"I specifically requested a carriage," Effie says looking down at her dress and then at all of their outfits. 

Portia comes to her side. "It will be alright, Ef," she says pulling a square of blush pink silk from her bag. "I have plenty of these. We can sit on them."

"I am not sitting on that," Haymitch mutters, earning him a look from Portia. 

"Okay. Thank you, Portia" Effie says, relief flooding her face before she steps up to Cypress. "But just so you know, nothing better happen to our attire especially not Katniss' dress. Cinna and I picked the perfect little lace frock. Demure and tasteful. It's delicate floral embroidery is a key statement we're making in this district. It's reminiscent of grape vines! If she gets one snag that is visible on television, I am reporting it!"

Katniss glances down at her dress. It's pretty, but she doubts it's worth this much fuss. 

"Get in the truck, M'am," Cypress says opening the door.

Effie sniffs. "I feel like a criminal," she says, thrusting her nose in the air and turning her eyes away. "I do not like this. I would like that to be noted."

 _I don't like this either_ , Katniss thinks. Victors usually arrive in the Square in carriages or cars or one time in the bed of a pick up truck. It all depends on the district. Sometimes there is fanfare and others it's a simple shot of the Victors entering the Square, but she doubts that's happening for them today. An armored truck doesn't look like victory; it looks like a declaration of war which is the opposite of what Snow wants. _So, why is it here?_

"Understood, Ms. Trinket, now get in the truck."

Effie huffs. "Fine," she says and holds out her hand.

There's a moment where Katniss is sure that Cypress is going to sigh or roll her eyes or outright refuse, but she doesn't. Cypress keeps her face blank and helps Effie into the truck, but does not assist anyone else.  
They ride for awhile. Crops surround them until shacks become visible. Really more like shanties, the wooden homes line up next to one another like ducks in a row. As the truck continues down the dirt path, the quality of the homes increases. Their quantity, however, lessens until all that is left is small shops. Grocery, Apothecary, Butcher, Bakery--the truck makes an abrupt turn sending its occupants sliding to the left. 

Katniss knocks into Peeta. Her nose presses against his chest. He smells of apples and spice. Like in autumn when his family makes apple pies for All Thanks Day and the whole street smells like cinnamon. Peeta smells like warmth and the excitement that wells through her when she has enough squirrels to trade with Mr. Mellark for a bag of pumpkin cookies for Prim. In essence, he smells like home. Katniss takes another deep breathe before she notices what she's doing and snaps upright.

"Sorry," she whispers, quickly. She avoids his eyes as she adjusts the scrap of silk she's sitting on. 

"Not your fault these people can't drive," Peeta says voice somewhat high.

Katniss sneaks a peek at him. He's flushing and not looking at her. His hands are busy adjusting his scrap of silk.

The soft snap of a shutter rings faintly in air.

Effie is smiling down at her phone. "Too precious for words," she whispers. "This is definitely going in the behind the scenes gallery."

\---------

The truck pulls to a stop in the back of the Justice Building. 

Effie looks down at her phone as the seven Peacekeepers lead them in. "We're cutting it close," she says.

The anthem begins to play, Effie curses. She snaps her fingers at a girl holding a tablet. "Mic them, now."

Effie turns to Peeta and Katniss, standing back far enough so the girl can work. "I am so sorry this is rushed," she says. "But we've discussed everything that is expected of you a number of times." She pulls out two cards, stepping forward when the girl runs off to notify the press that the Victors are here. "Remember, when in doubt just read your card. These speeches have been tested and polled. High marks across the board. There is nothing wrong with a canned speech, loves."

"M'am, they're ready for them," the girl says wheezing slightly from her run.

"Are they lined for photos?"

"Yes, Ms. Trinket."

"Okay," Effie breathes and steps out of Peeta and Katniss' way. "Showtime."

Katniss and Peeta reach for the others hand and make their way down the corridor to the massive stone doors where the press have congregated. The flashes are nearly blinding, but they keep a steady pace until they're past them. 

The doors groan open.

A loud applause hits their ears. Unlike in the Capitol, there are no whoops, whistles, or cheers and the applause dies out after a few moments.

As they step from beneath the shade of the building's roof, Katniss takes in the large crowd. Even here it looks like only a fraction of the District 11 people are present and yet the whole Square is filled. Though surprisingly there are a fair amount that look like Peeta. Peach skinned instead of brown or yellow ocher, their clothes slightly better looking. Last night she'd only seen people that could have passed for Seam members.

 _Are they their Townsfolk_ , Katniss wonders. _Is this what Flor meant by Peeta not looking like he's from the fields?_

Katniss thinks of the shabby looking homes they passed on their way to the Square. The wood looked frail and brittle like the worst houses in the Seam. She thinks of the houses with sturdier wood closer to town. Still sad, but better than the first houses she'd seen. The best homes were made of chipped, dusty brick; they were the farthest from the fields just like the best homes were farthest from the mine in District 12. _Is it like this everywhere?_

Banners hang from the buildings in the background, hiding the neglect to their exterior. Cameras perch atop their roofs capturing everything.

_Convince me._

Katniss keeps herself from jumping, but she can't help the grip she has on Peeta's hand. 

He looks at her, eyes asking her what's wrong.

She shakes her head, trying silently to reassure him that she's fine even though she's not.

Peeta leans to kiss her cheek. "Breathe," he whispers in her ear.

Katniss nods. _I can do this_ , she thinks. _I have to do this_. She turns her attention to Mayor Cransberry.

"The Games were designed to test us," Cransberry says tone clear and firm. "They are our way of proving our allegiance to the Capitol after our ancestors so foolishly threw Panem's bond of trust and loyalty into the dirt and spat on it."

Katniss looks back at the crowd, eyes skittering quickly away from the families gathered at the bottom of the steps. She is not ready to look at the raised platform; she doesn't know what her face will do, and she's not ready to see them. Cransberry's speech is not helping matters. Full of condemnation for the people of past, it feels like a warning to them all. Katniss wonders if Snow put him up to it or if the mayor has taken things into his own hands.

"We stand here today, as a testament to our unwavering devotion, celebrating the achievement of Peeta Mellark and Katniss Everdeen of District 12. Shining examples of the strength and perseverance we all seek to cultivate within ourselves."

The mayor signals two identical young girls to climb the steps. They are holding bouquets of flowers. 

"In honor of that recognition, I, Stonewall Cransberry, Mayor of District 11, proudly present you both with Cherokee Roses. They are our district's most prized flowers handpicked by our tributes' families."

Katniss stares down at the bouquet being handed to her. 

As one the twins say, "To honor you and give thanks." Their faces are blank, but their voices verge on irreverent, and their eyes are a light with fire. 

Katniss wants to apologize. She sees herself in these girls right down to their long braids. She remembers hating the Victors who came to her district. Hating that she had to celebrate their victory over one of her own people as if their death didn't matter. Every time was horrible and every moment stole a bit of her innocence until there was none left. But still she gives her scripted reply with Peeta, "We are honored and thankful for a united Panem," and watches the girls walk away.

"And now some words from our Victors," Mayor Cransberry says, emphasizing the word 'our' as if to remind them all that Victors represent the whole of Panem not just their home district. But Katniss knows that the people of D11 do not feel that way nor will they ever. 

She and Peeta step forward as Cransberry steps backward and to the side. Their hands still tangled together despite the bouquets held in the crooks of their arms.

Katniss gulps and finally looks a the raised platform where Rue and Thresh's families stand. On Thresh's side there is an old, stooped woman. Her cane and most likely her granddaughter the only things holding her up. The girl is tall and muscular. Her hair is cut close to her head like her brother's was. The same steadfast gaze that he had is in her eyes. She looks like a young woman who has grown used to life taking what it wants leaving her to carry on without. 

On Rue's side, her five siblings, including Theo, stand close together. Their parents stand in the middle of them. Katniss has to look away when she sees the pain and grief in their faces. She bites her lip and wills herself not to cry.

Peeta clears his throat, but does not pull his speech card from his pocket. "There is not much I can say to you that you don't already know," he says speaking directly to the families. "We're here today because of your children, your siblings. They kept Katniss alive and, therefore, kept me alive. I can never express how grateful I am to them and I can never repay that debt. But as a token of our gratitude we'd like for your families to receive one month of our winnings every year for the duration of our lives."

Katniss turns quickly to Peeta, nearly giving herself whiplash in the process. Her eyes are questioning, but he simply gives her a sad smile and lets go of her hand. 

Gently, Peeta takes her bouquet from her and walks down the Justice Building's steps to stand before the families' platform.

Katniss stares after him, as stunned as the crowd is with their whispers and murmurs over what he has done.

Peeta raises a bouquet up to Thresh's grandmother, but it is Thresh's sister who accepts it, shock clear in her expression. 

"To honor you and give thanks," he says, the mic on his shirt picks up every word. Peeta then turns to Rue's family, gesturing for her mother and father to step forward. "To honor you and give thanks," he says again as Rue's mother clutches the flowers to her chest. Rue's father nods at him.

As Peeta ascends the steps, Katniss notices they are the only two in all black. She doesn't know why it's come to her attention now, but something about it feels right. Black like the memorials of the past; the color of mourning and remembrance. What was once a gut wrenching display of reverence for a tradition that destroys families and changes lives has morphed into a moment to honor Rue and Thresh. Peeta's gift can easily provide for a family year round.

 _As long as we're alive, they'll never go hungry_ , Katniss realizes. Her feet tip toe of their own accord when Peeta reaches the last step. She kisses him before she thinks of it and pulls back to hug him, eyes shutting as his hands slip around her waist.

"I hope that was okay," he whispers. "I know I'm not supposed to be making decisions for you, but I wanted to give back. And I thought in this case it might be okay."

"It's better than okay, Peeta," she whispers. "It's perfect." 

Katniss feels him smile in the curve of her shoulder. An answering smile forms on her lips, but when she opens her eyes her smile fades as quickly as it appeared. The first thing she sees is Rue unhappy, a frown marring her face, but then she disappears and in her place stands her sister. Her hand is clasped in Theo's. She can't be more than nine. Katniss has never seen such anger directed toward her by a child. Peeta's gesture has brought her no joy. Her eyes have remained accusing. They seem to say, _You are not worthy of my sister's life. You who cannot even say thank you. Who cannot even look at us._

Shame fills every part of Katniss' body. Peeta's words were not her own. She didn't say them, and she didn't think of them. Rue's sister knows this, Katniss can see it in the girl's stare. The flowers she covered Rue in and the District 12 salute will mean nothing if she doesn't say something now, if she doesn't support them by speaking up. 

Katniss lets go of Peeta, and though Mayor Cransberry has begun to speak again clearly intent on bringing the ceremony to a close, she interrupts.

"W...Wait," she stutters. "Please, wait. I need to say something.

Cransberry turns to her, annoyance plain on his face. Katniss doesn't know if it's because of her or because of Peeta's gift. She's not sure of the legality of it and there's no precedent for his actions. Her prolonging this moment is not wise, but still she has to speak. She would never forgive herself if she stayed silent, and Rue wouldn't either. 

Katniss steps to the center forcing Cransberry to make room for her. Her hands tremble as she begins to speak, starting with Thresh's grandmother and sister, "I didn't know Thresh," she says. "In fact, I only spoke to him once, but he spared my life because of Rue. I wish I had gotten a chance to thank him and tell him how much I respected his strength of will and his refusal to play the Games on anyone else's terms but his own. Thresh was brave and honorable. The Careers wanted him to team up with them from the beginning, but he wouldn't do it. I admired that about him."

She turns to Rue's family, tears gather in her eyes threatening to fall. "But I feel like I did know Rue. I think about her everyday. She is everywhere." Katniss wipes a tear from her cheek and laughs softly. "I'll be in the Meadow by my house, and I'll see her in the yellow flowers that grow there. Or I'll hear her singing with the Mockingjays in the trees."

Katniss looks at Rue's sister who's clutching on to Theo as he buries his face in her shirt. The anger has slipped from the girl's eyes and all that is left is sadness. "I see her most in Prim, my sister," Katniss says. "When she's laughing at me or teasing me or looks particularly mischievous for reasons I have yet to find out. Rue's there, too."

"So, I'd like to thank you," she says, voice cracking as she looks between the two families, and then lifts her gaze to the crowd. "And thank you all for the bread."

The crowd is silent until someone whistles Rue's four note Mockingjay tune. The one that signaled the end of the work day in the orchards and safety in the Games. The whistler is an old man as tall as Haymitch and similar in coloring. His eyes find hers and in that moment Katniss knows that wasn't a call to safety.

No, she thinks as he brings his hand to his mouth and then extends his palm out just like Theo did the night before. The crowd follows suit, including Rue and Thresh's families, their hands flipping into the three fingered District 12 salute as they raise their arm above their heads.

_No. Not now. Please not now._

"What the hell are they doin'," Cransberry asks, pushing in front of Katniss. She steps back not even registering Peeta coming to her and pulling her to the side.

 _They're defying the Capitol_ , Katniss thinks. She tries to come up with something to say to undermine what is happening, but all she can find is fear and panic welling in her.

"Katniss, what's wrong," asks Peeta.

"I don't know," she says though she does know. Katniss knows exactly what is about to happen. Her stomach plummets as the old man opens his mouth to speak. It takes her a second to realize that he's not using Common Speak that he's speaking La Lengua, but when she does bile rises hot and fast in her throat.

No!

"Es tiempo para un cambio," he yells, voice carrying even without a mic. "Para la justicia. Para la libertad."

Cransberry motions for two Peacekeepers, a scowl is growing heavy on his face as it quickly turns a deep red. 

The Peacekeepers grab the old man, but he keeps speaking. "Eso es nuestra tierra. Nuestro hogar. Queremos justicia. Queremos libertad."

The crowd takes up the chant even as the man is dragged up the steps and thrown on his knees before Cransberry.

Katniss watches them shout, "Queremos justicia. Queremos libertad." Even the children have determined faces as they pump their fists in the air and chant.

She hears Cransberry ask the old man, "Mason, boy, what do you think you're doin'," through gritted teeth. He sounds nasty and spitting mad, but Mason doesn't answer him. He just keeps yelling in La Lengua.

"In Common Speak," Cransberry demands. "Not in that infernal nonsense you people talk to each other. I should have beat it out of all of you."

Katniss looks down when she hears the slight burst of static that accompanies a turned off microphone. She lifts her gaze to the roofs. Cameras are being pulled from the edge until all that's left is one.

Mason yelling, "We want justice! We want freedom!" turns Katniss' focus back to him. He's glaring at Cransberry as he continues to lead the District 11 people in a call for justice as smoothly in Common Speak as he had done in it La Lengua.

The crowd continues to shout, their voices just as fervent and strong.

Cransberry bends so that he is face to face with Mason. "You tell them to quit, Mason, or so help me..."

But Mason continues to chant.

"You hush up. You hear me? Hush up or I will burn you blacker than you already are!"

Cransberry stands up. "That goes for all of y'all! Y'all will rue this day. I swear it."

Katniss steps forward. She wants to do something. Anything. But there's a sharp pull on her arm. It's Cypress.

"Time to clear out, Miss Everdeen."

Katniss can barely hear her over the shouting and Cransberry yelling, "You can't do this. You cannot do this. I will not allow you to do this."

She glances over her shoulder, and when she sees Cransberry pull a gun from the holster of the Peacekeeper beside him she begins to struggle.

"No," Katniss whispers and then she says it again, stronger but still drowned out by the crowd. Moments from last night start to flash through her mind. Flor's fright at the sound of a gunshot. Lynn's constant whispers of it just being an animal. How she watched Theo walk off with such worry and concern even when she couldn't see him anymore. The look in her eyes as she came barreling down the stairs, gaze sweeping through the darkness like she was looking for something...or someone. Flor telling them about La Lengua at the risk of her own life, and the sheer level of tiredness in Lynn's voice as she shook her head. The kind of tired that lives in you when you've seen too much.

 _He's been killing them_ , Katniss realizes, horrified. _They've been defying him and he's been killing them_. She tries to twist out of Cypress' hold, but it only serves to make her tighten it. "Cypress, the mayor has a gun. Cypress," she pleads, but the Captain just continues to pull her toward the door.

Peeta looks back at her, "Katniss, what are you--"

"He's got a gun, Peeta!"

He looks over her shoulder, eyes widening as he sees Cransberry press the barrel of the gun against Mason's head.

They're nearly to the doors now, the Peackeepers struggle to pull them in as Peeta and Katniss try to get back to stop this. To do something. Anything.

"You can't do this," Cransberry yells again.

Mason looks at Katniss and smiles before he says, "Si, se puede," as the doors begin to close.

Cransberry fires the gun and before the doors can shut, Katniss sees Mason fall to the side, blood splatters against the white marble. 

There's a scream. Katniss doesn't know if it came from her or someone else. Her legs have given out. 

Cypress halls her to her feet as Haymitch and Effie come racing down the corridor.

Haymitch makes it to them first. "Let go of them," he barks. "Let go of them right now."

"Stop being rude," Effie chides after catching up with him. "These kids have had enough of a fright. That unruly crowd. We're lucky these Peacekeepers were here to get them out."

Haymitch ignores her and pulls Katniss and Peeta to him. He checks them over, eyes scanning for injury like they're the ones who got shot. Katniss and Peeta's faces crumple as if they've had the same thought.

"Shh, okay," he says. "Come with me. Come on. Come with me."

No one stops them as he leads them up a staircase. Effie starts interrogating Cypress as they climb the steps.

"What happened? We were ordered to cut the sound when that man began to speak so strangely. And then we had to cut the feed entirely as he was dragged up the steps."

"The mayor shot the man."

"He what," Effie gasps.

"He shot him. The man's dead, M'am. Peeta and Katniss saw."

"No. Oh, those poor children."

"The President is being notified as we speak."

"Good. Good. He'll know what to do," she says, sounding relieved.

Katniss is not relieved; she is terrified. _He's going to kill my family. Mine and Gale's. That's what he's going to do. I just got our families killed_. The only thing keeping her standing is the tight grip Peeta has on her hand and Haymitch's determined gait leading the way.

Up and up they climb until they reach the top of the landing. They walk down the hallway through the double doors, bypassing the sitting room where their dinner clothes hang neatly against the wall. 

Haymitch takes their mics and places them under the cushions of a loveseat they pass. He exits the room, heading up another staircase, crossing through another room, and heading up a staircase just outside its door until they reach a ladder. Haymitch climbs that, too, and pushes roughly at the trapdoor just above the ladder. He waits until both Katniss and Peeta are up before shutting the trap door, walks over to a chair with broken arms, and sits.

"Welcome to the dome," he says, spreading his arms. "Now tell me what happened." 

Peeta speaks first. His thoughts spill into the room as Katniss' move lighting fast through image after image of her family, of Gale and his, of Peeta's, too. They all flash before her eyes graying out like the pictures of fallen tributes that hung in the arena's night sky. 

_I did this_ , she thinks. _This is all my fault._

"Katniss thanked the families," Peeta says pacing, his voice wavering with every word. "And then this old man whistled. Mason. His name is Mason." He shakes his head. "Was," he nods. "His name was Mason. He whistled. Mason whistled."

"Peeta," Haymitch says.

He nods again and continues, voice wavering as he speaks. Peeta stops pacing long enough to bring his hand to his mouth before moving it forward as he explains the gesture Mason made. Haymitch interrupts him when he starts talking about Mason's use of La Lengua.

"La Lengua?"

"It's the speak of the people here," Peeta says. "No one outside of District 11 is supposed to know about it. Flor and Lynn said it was dangerous for outsiders to know, but Mason spoke it anyway."

Peeta swallows. "I didn't do anything. I didn't know what to do or say. It was so hard to think, and Mason...He just wouldn't stop. He only paused to switch to Common Speak so we all could understand what he was saying. That set Cransberry off." 

He stops pacing. "We were being pulled back into the building by Peacekeepers. I didn't hear anyone give the order, but they were pulling at us. And we were fighting them because Cransberry pulled a gun on Mason."

Peeta makes a gun out of the shape of his fingers and holds it to his head. "He held it right up to the side, but Mason still didn't stop and the crowd didn't either. They just kept shouting, 'We want justice! We want freedom!' And then Cransberry shot Mason." Peeta lets his head recoil like a bullet has been fired in it.

Katniss stares ahead replaying Peeta's movements over again. She pictures Mason and then Gale and her mother and her sister and Hazelle and Gale's siblings on their knees before President Snow shot one by one. Finally she sees herself staring up into Snow's grim face. He tsks and says, "If only you had listened to me," bringing the barrel of the gun to the side of her head. Her eyes close as she waits for the sweet relief of the bullet. The gun goes off; she falls to the side; her blood runs across the marble like Mason's. The image is familiar, grotesquely similar to Peeta's own depiction of her lifeless body. She's transfixed.

"Peeta," Haymitch says disapprovingly. He turns his eyes to Katniss and back as if signaling him to quit, but he doesn't.

Furiously, Peeta wipes away his tears. "I don't understand," he says. "How could this happen? How could Peacekeepers let it happen? They're supposed to keep the peace! Their job description is literally in their title and yet Cypress, who's supposed to be their Captain, didn't do anything. She just let it happen, and so did the man dragging me back inside. Why? How? I don't understand."

Haymitch brings his head to rest in his hands. "I think it's time we tell him, sweetheart," he says, looking at Katniss. 

She in turn looks back at him. Her eyes are slightly glossed over; she's still stuck halfway in her thoughts until he nods his head in Peeta's direction. It hits her like ice water. _I have to tell him_. She stiffens.

"Tell me what," Peeta asks looking between the two of them. "What don't I know? Katniss?"

Katniss avoids his eyes and taps the tip of her shoe against the floor. She had no plans on telling Peeta about any of this and being forced to find the words after what has happened is hard. She can't look at him as she speaks. 

"Snow came to see me," she says, finding a spot on the floor to stare at.

"What? When?"

"The day before we were set to leave for the tour."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

Katniss finds another spot. "We weren't really talking, and I thought I could handle it. I didn't think you needed to know."

"Handle what, Katniss? You're not making any sense. What did Snow want? Will you please look at me? You're scaring me. Could you please just look at me?"

"Let her talk, Peeta."

Katniss finds another spot to stare at near his shoe. It's white. Maybe paint. "He wanted my cooperation," she says. "He said that I was misbehaving and that he couldn't have that on top of the unrest in the districts."

"Why would--"

"Because I kissed Gale," she whispers. Katniss isn't sure why that confession brings her eyes to his, but it does, and everything comes pouring out. "Snow has been watching us. Possibly filming our every move. He showed me the tape of our kiss and then threatened to kill Gale and our families if I didn't convince the districts of my love for you. I was supposed to calm them down, but all I've managed to do is get a man killed and hundreds of people punished or worse."

Peeta's breathing is harsh. "What about mine?"

"What?"

"What about _my_ family?"

"I don't know," she says and it's the truth. Snow didn't mention them, but she figured if she did what she's supposed to do that they wouldn't get caught in the crossfire and it wouldn't be an issue. 

"Damn it, Katniss," Peeta says turning away from her before quickly turning back. He takes a step toward her. "Is this why Flor wanted you to listen to her talk about La Lengua? Did you know this was going to happen today?"

Haymitch stands up. "Peeta--"

Katniss takes a step toward him, too. She feels like she's been slapped. Anger courses through her. She already knows this is her fault; she doesn't need him confirming it for her or judging her. 

"No, I didn't know a man was going to be murdered today, Peeta," she bites out. "I didn't know that the whole crowd was going to start chanting in La Lengua or that they were going to rebel on live television."

"But you knew something like this could happen." It's not a question; he just wants to hear her say it.

Katniss looks away.

Peeta laughs and wipes a hand across his face. "So, I made things worse then. Giving that money to Rue and Thresh's families added fuel to the fire."

All of the ire seeps out of Katniss. This is her fault not his. "You didn't know."

"Of course I didn't know, Katniss, you didn't tell me," Peeta growls. "And now Mason is dead." He swipes at a lamp standing on a crate beside him. It hits the wall and shatters.

Katniss stares at the pieces of crystal that litter the floor before looking at him. "Peeta--"

"No," he says. "This has got to stop. This thing you two do where you tell each other secrets but keep them from me has got to end."

Peeta looks at Katniss and Haymitch. "I don't know if it's some sort of sick game or if you find it funny," he says. "Hell, maybe it's me. Maybe you think I'm too stupid...or too weak...or too inconsequential..."

"No, Peeta," Haymitch says taking a step toward him, but Peeta takes a step back and shakes his head.

"You two wouldn't be the first to think that about me," he says, gaze stuck on the floor. "My own mother says it. Sometimes even to customers." He clears his throat. "But whatever reason you have it doesn't matter. You have to stop."

"It's not like that, Peeta--"

Peeta glares at Katniss. "It is exactly like that."

"I just wanted to...to...," Katniss trails off. She doesn't know what to say to get him to understand. She doesn't even really understand it herself. 

"What? Protect me?"

Yes, she thinks. 

Peeta laughs again. It sounds broken and rough. "I don't need you to protect me."

"Yes, you do," is pulled from deep within Katniss. She nearly yells the words; she feels the truth of them so strongly. 

"I'm not your sister, Katniss. I don't need you to shield to me from the world. I'm not a child."

"I know that," Katniss says. She's irritated. This is the second time he's said those words to her today.

"Obviously, you don't because you keep treating me like one."

"You're important to me, Peeta." 

The realization of that scared Katniss in the Games and it still scares her now. She doesn't know what to do with how important he's become to her. Even when he won't speak to her, even when he's angry and lashing out, he is still so damn important to her. 

Peeta falters. His mouth opens and closes, but no sound comes out. 

Katniss thinks maybe he'll listen to her now. _Maybe he'll...forgive me._

Peeta finally speaks though he's not looking at her as he does. "Not important enough to warrant the truth from you."

His words sting. "I didn't lie to you," she says.

"Yeah, well, you didn't tell me the truth either."

"Don't put this all on her, kid," Haymitch says. "You're smart. Calculated even. You know how to carry yourself on camera. Always so reliably good and exactly what they want to see. I didn't want to disrupt that."

"Good? A lot of good I did today, Haymitch," Peeta says bitterly. "What do you think is going to happen to Rue and Thresh's families? Do you think I gave them a bright future? Because I think they'll be lucky if they survive the day. A good person doesn't get innocent people killed. I think you've overestimated how good I am." He picks up a statue and sends it flying through the space between Haymitch and Katniss. It breaks into four pieces when it hits the wall. 

Katniss wants to tell Peeta that he is good. That this her fault and she's the one who's not good. She got innocent people killed not him, but she can't get the words to come out. Katniss has never seen Peeta like this. He's always so controlled even in his coldness, but he's not now. His face is red and his hands keep clenching and unclenching like he needs to destroy something with them. The lamp and the statue weren't enough. Katniss understands that feeling. There were days when she'd come home from the woods with bloody knuckles for Prim to bandage. Sometimes the feel of tree bark splitting her skin was the only thing to calm the anger that boiled inside of her, the only thing that she felt she had control over. But there are no trees here for Peeta to punch and he's run out of objects to throw, so Katniss does the best she can by being honest.

"We should have told you," she says. "Even back in the Capitol."

Peeta's fists unclench. "You mean the system you two worked out during the Games. The one that I wasn't a part of."

"It wasn't official," she says. "I could just tell what Haymitch wanted me to do based on what he sent or didn't send."

"I see. Explains why he didn't send me anything until you showed up."

"Kid--"

Peeta holds up his hand. "Don't. You had to make a choice; you chose Katniss. I would have wanted it to have been her in the Games. But this isn't the same. Someone died. Others probably have, too, and more will unless we do as Snow says and behave. I don't think he'll kill our families over this. The people here were clearly planning this for some time, but we can't afford for something like this to happen again, and you can't keep hiding things from me. I need to know what I'm walking into if I'm going to be of any use."

"From now on, you'll be in the know," says Haymitch.

"I better be," Peeta says and then leaves without another word or a glance at Katniss.

When the trap door closes, Katniss slumps on a wooden crate and hangs her head. The curtain of her brown hair falls in front of her face, shielding her from Haymitch's gaze.

"Well, that could have gone a hell of a lot better," he says as he sits back in his chair.

"Why?"

"I believe the word you're looking for there, sweetheart, is 'how'."

"No, Why did you choose me? You like Peeta better."

Haymitch leans forward, resting his forearms against his thighs. "He was determined to protect you, Katniss, and before the rules changed I could only hope to bring one of you home. I made a choice."

"To leave him to die."

"No, to keep you alive."

They fall into silence.

 _If Peeta chooses me and Haymitch chooses me, then who chooses Peeta?_ Katniss lets that thought move sad like and somber through her mind as she stands up and brushes her dress off. But when her eyes pass over the crystal shards that litter the floor she freezes. They flick and flame like fire licks beneath the sun, reminding Katniss of Peeta's anger, his flushed face, and the torment in his eyes. The evidence of Peeta's displeasure lies shattered in far flung corners of the room. As Katniss takes it in, her sadness dissipates and annoyance begins to take its place.

"It doesn't matter," she says. 

"What?"

Katniss looks at Haymitch. "How I feel. It doesn't matter. We're still playing the same game and I've got my family to think about. I've only ever had one choice and that's to keep everyone I care about alive." _It's not my fault that Peeta's just now learning what that feels like._

"It matters how you feel, sweetheart."

"No, Haymitch," she says as she starts walking toward the trapdoor. "It really doesn't." 

Images of Peeta clutter Katniss' thoughts as she makes her way to the sitting room. The day he walked away from her when she confessed she didn't know how she felt about him. Every time he stopped by her house to drop off bread and barely said a word to her. Seeing Delly go in and out of his house when she'd never made it pass the threshold. The nights she'd catch him on his balcony blowing cold puffs of air as he clutched a mug in his hand looking as lonely as she felt after everyone else went to bed. Katniss grasps the hem of her skirt tightly as she thinks about telling Peeta he's important to her only for him to throw it back in her face. She finally spoke up, she finally told him the thing that scares her most about him, and he brushed it off. _How I feel has never mattered when it comes to how he feels._

"Katniss!"

"Leave me alone." It's just Haymitch, and she has nothing more to say.

"Katniss!"

She keeps walking until she feels a sharp tug on her elbow. Katniss snatches her arm back and turns around. "What, Haymitch?!"

"We've got to leave now," Haymitch says handing her the phone Effie gave him at the start of the tour which she's never seen him use. On the screen is a red flashing notification:

WARNING: DISTRICT SHUT DOWN IMMINENT, T-MINUS ONE HOUR. ALL PANEM CITIZENS NOT OF THE DISTRICT MUST LEAVE UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE. ALL NON-DISTRICT CITIZENS FOUND WITHIN THE DISTRICT WHO ARE NOT STATIONED IN OR TEMPORARILY ASSIGNED TO DUTY WITHIN OR AROUND THE DISTRICT WILL BE IN VIOLATION OF THE LAW AND WILL BE ARRESTED.

"Peeta and Effie," she mutters before taking off down the hallway with Haymitch right behind her. 

They reach the sitting room, but it's empty. For a minute, Katniss stands there looking about as if they'll appear if she keeps staring at the walls and furniture. Where is he? It isn't until she hears Effie's voice rising in anger that she realizes that they're downstairs.

She and Haymitch hurry down the steps. 

Standing before Effie and Peeta are Mayor Cransberry and five Peacekeepers.

Peeta notices Katniss first. His eyes sweep over her body like he's checking to make sure she's okay. Katniss finds herself doing the same to him. _I found him_ , she thinks allowing the thought to calm her.

When Effie sees them she lets out a sigh of relief. "Oh, thank goodness," she says taking a step toward them only for Peacekeepers to step in front of her. Effie sneers, "First, you wouldn't let us go get them, and now you won't let me go near them. What do you think you're doing?"

"They're followin' orders, Ms. Trinket," Cransberry says. "Somethin' you are incapable of doin'."

"I don't take orders from you," Effie says, but she doesn't take another step toward Katniss and Haymitch.

Katniss tries going around the Peacekeepers, but the one closest to her turns around and grabs her, forcing her back before he lets go.

Peeta yells, "Don't touch her," at the same time that Haymitch pushes the Peacekeeper who stumbles and falls back.

"Keep your hands off her," Haymitch says through gritted teeth.

The Peacekeeper pulls his gun from his holster as do the other four. Red laser accuracy beams are trained on Haymitch's heart.

Effie gasps, her quivering hands cover her mouth as she shakes her head 'no'. 

"Tell them to stand down," Peeta says urgently. 

Cransberry ignores him and taunts Effie with a smirk. "Obedience is what is needed here, Ms. Trinket. Defiance has consequence."

Mason flashes to the forefront of Katniss' mind. Her face hardens. _Not again. Not to Haymitch!_ She makes to step in front of Haymitch, but he grabs her wrist. "Don't move, sweetheart."

Cransberry tsks as he faces them. "I wouldn't do that again if I were you, boy," he says. He addresses the Peacekeepers. "At ease, gentlemen, he'll stay put. And you will, too, won't you, girl?"

Haymitch and Katniss nod their affirmatives with scowls cut deep into their faces. 

The Peacekeepers holster their weapons and the one who fell gets back on his feet and stands in formation with the others. 

"Now," Cransberry says, clapping his hands. "I believe it is my sworn duty to escort y'all to safety."

"You want to escort us to safety?" Peeta glares at Cransberry. "After threatening us?"

"My boy, it was always my intention to escort you and Ms. Trinket to your train and see that you made it out of my beloved district."

"What--"

"However," Cransberry begins, cutting Peeta off. "I think the President might like a word with these two."

Katniss ignores the panic Cransberry's words threaten to loose in her. She eyes the Peacekeepers warily and takes a step back with Haymitch. 

"The President wants no such thing," Effie says. Her eyes are brimming with tears, but she's found her voice.

"And how would you know what a man like President Snow wants," Cransberry spits. "You don't know anything."

"You're right, Stonewall. The President does want answers," says Cypress cutting in. She steps out of the shadow of a pillar. "He is very disappointed with the performance displayed here. In fact, he's been disappointed for months, and I've been ordered to correct that disappointment." 

_What is she doing here_ , Katniss wonders.

"It is Mayor to you, Captain," Cransberry grits. "Show some deference to your superior. Why aren't you leading the District sweep like I ordered you to do?"

Cypress turns her focus to the five men in uniform and holds up a Comm card. A gold badge flashes twice across the screen before the numbers 7561 appear.

Cransberry says, "No," turning about as three of his Peacekeepers leave his side and stand by Cypress. "You can't do this." 

"I can, Stonewall," Cypress says signaling the remaining two Peacekeepers to grab Cransberry's arms and cuff him. "With the full weight and power of our President's command, I hereby place you under Keeper custody. You have been charged with endangerment of the state and criminal rogue behavior. All mayoral privileges bestowed upon you have been revoked. You are not entitled to visitation. You are not entitled to representation from this district or your home district. You will be held within the belly of this building until a trial can be set for you in the Capitol. A Peacemaker will be provided to you at the start of your trial. They will handle negotiations regarding your crimes and punishment. At the conclusion of that trial, you will be held in the Capitol until your sentencing is finalized and enacted. So sayest, President Coriolanus Snow. "

Katniss stares wide eyed at the scene before her. She's seen her share of Keeper arrests, but never has she seen a Mayor be taken into Keeper custody. She's also never heard anything like Cypress said to Cransberry. Cypress spoke as if Cransberry would have been entitled to visitation and representation from the districts in any other circumstance. Katniss has never heard of... _would you call them Entitlements, she wonders. When have district citizens been entitled to anything?_

Cransberry tries to fight, but the Peacekeepers wrestle him to the ground. "I am the mayor of this district. You cannot treat me like this. I am the mayor!"

"Tap him."

The two Peacekeepers do as Cypress orders, twisting the wrists of their gloves and tapping Cransberry's shoulders. A light electric charge surges through his body causing him to writhe in pain. 

With a sick fascination, Katniss watches Cransberry jerk and twist, contorting himself as electricity crackles through his body. She does not look away as she thinks about all the pain he has caused the people of District 11 and the man whose brain he put a bullet in.

The shock leaves Cransberry panting. He wheezes out, "How dare you," before Cypress tells the Peacekeepers to tap him again. He doesn't try to speak after the second time just glares angrily up at Cypress as he tries to regain his breathe. Sweat pours down his face.

"You should have shown restraint, Stonewall," Cypress says. "Killing Mason was a costly mistake."

"I was told to--"

"You were told to bring order back to this district. Would you say there was order today?"

Cransberry is silent.

Effie's Comm device, Haymitch's phone, and Cypress' Comm card go off, sending shrill shrieks through the halls of the Justice Building.

Cypress looks at her Comm card. "45 minutes," she says. She turns her focus to Effie. "Ms. Trinket, we've sent the press and the Victors' prep teams on ahead. Flor and Lynn are waiting outside with my squad to escort you to the remaining train. Ashe will lead you to them."

The Peacekeeper to her right salutes Cypress and gestures for them to follow him, but none of them move.

"Time is of the essence, Ms. Trinket." Cypress says.

Effie nods. "Right. Come along, everyone. The sooner we leave this place the better."

As they are led away, Katniss looks over her shoulder to watch as Cypress steps up to Cransberry. This part she knows though she's only seen it once. The last measure before they take you in. To ensure you won't continue to fight.

Cypress twists her glove. Katniss listens its hum.

"You'll never make me heel, Cypress," Cransberry bites out.

She grabs the back of his neck hard and jerks up.

Katniss watches the light fade from Cransberry's eyes until they glaze over. 

"Everyone heels at the President's command, Stonewall," Cypress says as she lets go of his neck. "Everyone."

The Peacekeepers place him on his feet and let go once he's standing.

Cypress tells Cransberry to follow her and he does so wordlessly, feet dragging across the floor.

Katniss turns back around.

\-------------

Four armored trucks ride alongside the train; two on each side. Katniss watches a hovercraft fly past back toward the heart of District 11.

Katniss turns when she hears someone clear their throat.

The attendant who stopped her from leaving the train by herself is standing at the opposite end of the room. She is holding a vase full of flowers.

"It's a sweeper plane," she says. "They're looking for people who work too far out to have gotten the warning notification."

"What will they do with them?"

"I imagine they'll take them to the Justice Building for the night, and send them home in the morning." The girl places the vase on a table in the middle of the room. "These came for you."

"So, you don't know for sure," Katniss asks. 

The girl shakes her head no. "I only know what I've been told. Is there anything I can assist you with, Miss Everdeen."

"No, thank you...," Katniss says, trailing off when she realizes she doesn't know the girl's name.

"Six," the girl says. "You can call me, Six."

"But isn't that just your--"

"District number? Yes, Miss Everdeen, but Six is fine," the girl says and exits the room.

Katniss watches her go not knowing if the girl didn't want to say who she is, or if she's not allowed to.

The vase is full of Cherokee Roses, the same flowers she and Peeta were presented with during the speeches. Katniss plucks the card from the bouquet. The only words printed on the inside are 'Strike 1'. 

Katniss crumples the card in her anger, and picks up the vase heading to the back view area. She chucks the vase as far as she can and watches it shatter against the tracks. White blossoms twirl in the air, drifting off into the distance. Glass sparkles under the fading sunlight.

She clings to the railing shaking as bad as she did when she said goodbye to Prim.

_Convince me._

_Convince me._

_I'm failing_ , she thinks. _If I fail, they're dead. Prim and Gale and my mom. He'll kill them like Cransberry killed Mason, and it will be all my fault._

Katniss tries to stop those thoughts by focusing on Peeta. _He knows now. I'm not alone in this._ But the memory of his anger, like the shattered glass that litters the tracks in the distance, cuts like the cold of his indifference and his apathy. 

She stands, forcing herself to stop shaking and go inside. _He'll help me_ , she thinks. _But it's not going to change anything between us. It can't._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading. Feedback is appreciated.


	4. interlude: to the ground beneath our feet we are ghosts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to give my friend, Ikea, the biggest of shout outs for being there for me through chapter planning, writer's block, and message after message about this fic and where I want to go with it. Forever the best she is. Thank you for being such an awesome beta!
> 
> chapter title from [_Ghosts_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oy7Dof22YCI) by James Vincent McMorrow

_Her arms won’t move, but she can’t tear her eyes away from the sight before her. Bodies litter the ground. Blood stains the streets red._

_There’s a young girl at the center of the massacre. She’s yelling, tears stream down her face as she calls out for someone over and over again._

_My fault, she thinks as the girl’s face crumples, her yelling diminished to whimpers of the name she won’t stop repeating._

_“How many times did I have to tell you?”_

_She doesn’t turn away from the girl, but answers, “One too many.”_

_The girl is crying so hard that she’s shaking. Her sobs muffle the words she is trying to say._

_My fault._

_“Precisely. You know what you must do.”_

_She takes her gaze off the girl, turns her focus to the gun in her hands. The barrel is aimed at the child. She twists the gun around to face herself and opens her mouth to slide it in._

_The girl is screaming now as she scrambles forward._

_She cocks the gun, but before she can pull the trigger--_

_“No, my dear. Not you. The child.”_

_She can feel her panic as her hands move of their own accord and pull the gun from her mouth, but there’s nothing she can do. She aims and fires before the child can make it to her. The girl falls, her blonde pigtails blow in the wind. Her bloody shirt is untucked and rumpled._

Katniss wakes with a start. She feels like she can’t breathe. Her legs shakily carry her from the bed to the door. She has to get out, to escape. 

She stumbles into the hallway and heads to the back of the train, scrambles onto the seat and stares out the window. Nothing but flat land and grass go by in the dark, but she breathes easier. Being able to see the outdoors settles her. Katniss repeats, “Prim is safe,” under her breath until she believes it.

When she gets back to her room, a bottle and a note are waiting on the vanity.

**Katniss,**

**A lady is entitled to her privacy, but if you ever need to talk, I am just down the hall. These pills should help you sleep. They've done wonders for me on terrible days, and I think today qualifies. Pleasant dreams.**

**-Effie**

Katniss is wary of the pills. She’s never taken anything that her mother didn’t prepare but still she swallows one down. Better a sleepless night due to a bad reaction to medicine than one due to the horrors she can’t escape in her mind. Settling back into bed, Katniss closes her eyes and waits for the pill to kick in. She’s out in a few minutes.

_A man cradles a toddler in his arms. She is the spitting image of him with tawny skin and a straight arrow nose. He sings to her soft and sweet as she looks up at him with big, curious grey eyes and smiles._

_This land is your land_  
_This land is my land_  
_From the Western border_  
_To the Southern shorelands_  
_From the Northern forests_  
_To the Eastern farmlands_  
_This land belongs to you and me_

_As soon as the child begins to hum along, a woman rushes into the room and snatches her out of the man’s arms. Sensing the woman’s fear, the child begins to cry, confused by the woman’s anger and the sudden feeling of trouble brewing in the air._

_“You be reckless with your life, Robin,” the woman begins nearly in a shrill, ignoring the child’s sobs. “But you leave our daughter out of it!”_

_Robin stands, hands out before him in a placating gesture. “Patricia--”_

_“No!”_

_“You’re scaring her.”_

_Patricia looks down at the child in her arms and sees the way she’s bending to reach for her father. Tears track down her face as she squirms._

_“Shush, baby,” she says bouncing the young girl in her arms and turns her so that she rests her head on her shoulder. “Momma’s got you. It’s okay.”_

_Robin takes a step toward them, but Patricia takes a step back. “Don’t sing that song to her again.”_

_“Patricia--”_

_“You are going to make life hard for her if you keep this up.”_

_“Her life is already going to be hard.”_

_“And you are determined to make it harder,” she hisses._

_“I want more for her than what we’ve got, Tricia. More than survival. I want her to live.”_

_“We live in the districts. There is only survival. What little life we get to live is our own. You taught me that.”_

_“Well, I think I need to be teaching her something different. Something better.”_

_“There is no better! This is what is. That nonsense--”_

_“It’s not nonsense; it’s the truth.”_

_“Truth,” she asks in disbelief. “Look around you, Robbie. There is no truth other than our bare cabinets and what little food we have left to feed our child. You want to teach her some truth? Explain her place in life to her. Tell her where she stands in this world of ours so that it doesn’t break her heart when she finds out that you lied.”_

_“I’m not lying to her,” he says standing tall. “This land is hers as much as it is yours and mine. No man in some far off place should get to say otherwise. He’s never even stepped foot outside of the Capitol, but I’m supposed to work in our mines and shovel coal for him?”_

_“My father said--”_

_Robin glares at her. “I’m not working for your father, Patricia.”_

_“But it’s good money. Money that we could--”_

_“Has he called Katniss by her name yet or is she still a coal baby to him?”_

_Patricia stays silent._

_Robin laughs mirthlessly. “Know your place, boy” he says. “You ain’t never going to be nothing, but a mine bird. My daughter’s ruined, and you and that coal baby are going to destroy her. That’s the man you come from, Patricia. And you want me to humble myself and work for him? I’m not doing it.”_

_Katniss reaches up and pats Patricia on the cheek. “Momma. Hungry,” she says._

_“Okay, baby,” Patricia says, but keeps her eyes on Robin._

_He sighs and walks to the door, grabbing his cowhide jacket on the way._

_“Where you going?”_

_“Hunting.”_

_“Robin, we talked about that. It’s dangerous.”_

_He turns to her. “No, you talked. I listened. I heard you but like you said our cabinets are bare and we’ve got a daughter to feed. I’ll see you in a few hours.”_

_Robin waves to his daughter, screws his eyes up to make her laugh, and leaves with a “Love you” for both her and Patricia._

\--

Katniss is curled up in a large wingback chair, a tea cup sits warm in her hands as she watches the land pass through the window. Sleep did not allude her last night thanks to Effie’s pills but dreaming of her father brought on an ache that she doesn’t have the ability to soothe stuck on this train as she is. What Katniss needs is her woods, the grass under her feet, and a bow in her hand, but she’ll have to settle for the feel of his jacket around her shoulders. She hadn’t told her mother that she was taking this one with its dark fringe and missing patches. It would have been difficult to get her to let her take it. Her mother has always been stingy with her father’s things even his memory which she holds tight to her heart. Another strike against her that Katniss cannot forgive. 

_Your mother is brave_ , her father had said when she’d been angry because her mother had chastised her for publicly questioning the authority of Peacekeepers. _She just fears for you. Bravery without fear is just stupidity trussed up as courage. Before you question something you must first understand it._

Katniss has tried but she cannot understand her mother. A woman who checked out on her children because her grief was stronger than her love for them. Who sanitizes what stories she does tell about their father, so that he appears as a happy, loving family man who was stolen from them because of his line of work. As if he cannot be both that man and one who was frustrated and tired of his lot in life. A man who brought his daughter into a forbidden wood to teach her how to provide and who spoke of freedom with the same passion she hears in Gale’s voice. Sometimes, Katniss thinks her mother didn’t know her father at all and in moments such as those she doesn’t feel bad for taking something of his from her.

As she sets her cup on the table beside her, the sleeves of her father’s jacket slip to cover her fingers enveloping her hands in warmth. _Besides_ , Katniss thinks. _She never wears it. What’s the use in a jacket unworn? Papa would have wanted me to have it. I know he would have._

When Katniss looks up, she is met with Peeta’s blue eyes. They’ve not spoken to each other since what happened in the Dome. She can see that he wants to talk, but Katniss remembers the shattering of glass and stone. Still feels the slap of ‘not important enough to warrant the truth from you.’ For months she’d wished that he’d speak to her. For days, she’d felt guilty over shielding him from Snow’s threat. Now that Peeta does want to speak to her, and now that he knows the truth, a part of her wishes it was like before. His frigid manner was better than the fire of his disappointment and his blame. Katniss doesn’t want to deal with that right now so it is her turn to be silent and unyielding in her quiet.

“Katniss,” Peeta starts but she shakes her head and turns to watch Effie pace, ignoring his frustrated sigh and the clinking of his cup on the table.

“‘Trinket,” Haymitch says. “If you keep pacing like that you’re going to wear a hole into the floor and fall through it. Not that I’d mind but for the sake of the kids take a seat.” He’s propped up against the wall, hands in his pockets as he watches Effie walk from one side of the room to the other.

Effie opens her mouth to speak but a sharp beep resounds in the room. She exhales and mutters, “Finally,” before a disembodied voice begins to speak.

“Chat request received. Interim Mayor Cypress. District 11.”

As soon as Effie says, “Patch,” the wall she had been pacing in front of splits in half to reveal a large screen. 

It flickers to life and Cypress appears. Her hair is still pulled back into a ponytail but the ends have been curled and she’s not in uniform. Instead of the protective shell of her Peacekeeper's armor, Cypress is in a soft purple shirt with brown suspenders. The District sigil rests over her heart rather than her shoulders. 

Beside Cypress is a man Katniss remembers simply as Ashe, the Keeper who escorted them back to their train. He'd reassured Effie that Cypress had everything under control and that she had nothing to concern herself with anymore. Seeing him switch allegiance so quickly after Cypress' Comm card had flashed had unnerved Katniss. One minute he had had his gun trained on Haymitch and then the next he was a part of their protection detail. Safe was not even close to what she had felt walking down the hall with him. Though it seems his easy transition to Cypress' authority has rewarded him judging by his gleaming white Captain's uniform.

_What do they want_ , Katniss wonders wishing she’d asked Effie why she wanted them to meet in this room instead of shuffling behind her and accepting tea from her without a word.

“Good morning, all,” Cypress says. 

"Mayor," Effie begins. "Thank you for your prompt response. I had worried that I had not stressed enough the importance of--"

"Ms. Trinket," she interrupts. "It seems you have convinced a few of my Keepers that you are entitled to privileged information about members of my district."

Effie spine straightens at the tone of her voice. "As a Capitol Mentor I _am_ entitled to certain information. Tributes and by extension their families fall within my security clearance."

"I'm well aware of your status, Ms. Trinket, but the Tributes you speak of have been laid to rest and their families are none of your concern."

"They are of concern to my Victors and therefore they are of concern to me."

"Be that as it may--"

"I cannot do my job if I cannot ease the minds of my Victors, Cypress."

"You are out of line, Ms. Trinket," Captain Ashe says with annoyance leaking into his voice.

Cypress holds up her hand, silencing the man without saying a word. “Go on, Ms. Trinket.”

Effie sighs. 

Katniss has never seen her look so tired before almost like it sits in her bones. Weary is not a word she thought she’d ever liken to her. 

"A man was shot and killed before their eyes,” Effie says. “In the midst of a riot that prompted an immediate evacuation of non-district citizens, the mayor attempted to take prisoner one of my Victors and my fellow Mentor. In spite of this, I am not asking what will become of him or how this could possibly happen in the middle of a Victory Tour. A time of celebration and good will. I am simply asking if you were able to locate the families of the D11 tributes and if they are unharmed."

"That is not for me to answer."

Effie scowls. "You are Interim Mayor, Cypress. There is very little that you cannot answer."

Cypress says nothing.

Effie's face falls. "Please," she says. "We have 11 more districts to cover. The press will push as close to the line as they are allowed when it comes to the unfortunate incident that occurred in your district. I can blacklist the question when it comes to my Victors, but I have to give them something."

For a moment Katniss thinks she sees Cypress' eyes soften but she blinks and the woman's face is as stoic as ever.

Cypress relents. "The Carpenters and the Rosados are under my protection as are the rest of the District 11 citizens."

Effie relaxes, but Haymitch tenses.

Cypress notices. "Yes, Mr. Abernathy?"

"Why would they need your protection," he asks, suspicious.

"When you turn earth over, Mr. Abernathy, it's possible to trudge up more than one snake. I'm roosting out vermin and my people need to know that they won't be harmed in the process.”

"What makes you think they want your protection," Katniss asks.

"Nothing, Miss Everdeen, but they have it anyway. Stonewall Cransberry disrespected his office and his oath to keep order. He broke trust and will be charged for his misconduct."

_Murder_ , Katniss thinks. _He committed murder._

"And you think they'll trust you," Peeta asks.

"I believe you already know the answer to that question, Mr. Mellark."

"Humor him," Haymitch says.

"No," Cypress says firmly. "I have humored you all enough." She turns her focus back to Effie. "Ms. Trinket, this is all the information I can provide you. I recognize the trauma you have endured and extend my deepest apologies; however, I have a district to calm and a citizen to lay to rest."

"Mason," Peeta says.

"Yes, Mason Shear. He was well respected in District 11. He'll be missed."

"And yet you did nothing," Katniss says, the words out her mouth faster than she could complete the thought.

"Sometimes doing nothing is how you gain the opportunity to do something, Miss Everdeen."

Cypress turns back to Effie. "Ms. Trinket."

"Favored odds, Mayor Cypress."

"Likewise," she says before the screen goes black.

Effie turns with a clap of her hands. “Well, a little information is better than no information don’t you think, my dears?”

“At least we know Rue and Thresh’s families are okay,” Peeta says.

Katniss thinks, _But can we trust Cypress?_ , which is what Haymitch verbalizes to the visible consternation of Effie.

“There is no reason not to,” Effie states.

“She let Mason die,”Katniss says. Effie wasn’t on the platform. She wasn’t the one dragged away. No one stopped her from trying to do something, anything to keep Mason alive.

“Cypress did her job.”

“By doing nothing,” Katniss asks. She can’t understand how doing nothing breeds opportunity to do something. The Peacekeepers in her district let orphaned kids starve and freeze to death in the streets when the orphanage can’t take anymore children. They allow girls too young to request tessarae to sell themselves for money, shelter, and food. Their only stipulation is that the pleasure houses can’t take girls in until they’re 13. They call it flying. You can’t get your wings until you’re in your teens and without wings you can’t get a nest. Though that didn’t stop a townsman from thinking she was a canary. 

Katniss remembers him smelling of alcohol and sweat at two in the afternoon. He’d said she was a little bird sent just for him. A sweet bird with an even sweeter song to sing. The Peacekeeper up the street looked on. Didn’t move an inch just watched as she told him she didn’t have any yellow on and that canary’s fly at dusk. It took Greasy Sae and the threat of her knife to get the man to back off and to get the Peacekeeper’s attention. The man fled but the Peacekeeper stayed behind to ‘assess the scene’ as she called it. Her lack of involvement she’d excused with the tendency of canaries to flock on this street from time to time ignoring the fact that the sun was high and that canaries don’t work during the day. The Peacekeeper had questioned them on how she was supposed to know a half starved Seam girl wasn’t a yellow bird. “You all look the same anyway,” she said. 

“No,” Effie says interrupting Katniss’ memory. “She did her job by protecting you.”

“Protecting me,” Katniss asks, her voice dipping into incredulity brought on by her remembrance of Cypress’ hold on her arm, the sharp, repeated tug that pulled her further and further away from Mason and the defiant D11 crowd.

“Yes,” Effie insists. “Cypress dragged you out of harm’s way. She got _all of us_ out of a district in the midst of a riot and a command change. You owe her more than your derision. You owe her your thanks.”

_I owe her nothing_ , Katniss thinks. 

Effie walks to the doorway but pauses before she exits. Looking over her shoulder, she says, “You’re a Victor, Katniss. Rest in your victory and stop fighting against your place. You are favored. Remember that.”

Katniss flinches. Know your place, bounces around her head. The phrase echoes in the many voices she’s heard it from throughout her life. The bitterness and anger of her father and Gale. The sad resigned assertion of her mother. The hate and loathing of her grandfather and Cransberry. Her own whispered utterances to keep herself in check and under control.

“Darling,” Effie asks, brows furrowing as she steps away from the door and back toward Katniss. “What’s wro--”

The train jerks to a halt. 

“What was that,” Effie asks, hand still braced against the door. 

A gravelly voice speaks. “We apologize, Ms. Trinket, but the machinery is overheating.”

Effie waves her hand impatiently and says, “Projection,” prompting the large screen to appear again this time with the conductor’s image. 

“Ma’am, we warned you. Exceeding the set speed parameters even by 5% usually results in our system needing a cooling period.”

She pinches the bridge of her nose. “Yes. Yes. I remember, Six.”

Katniss shifts uncomfortably in her chair. The conductor is a man as old as Haymitch with a greying beard and impatient eyes not a blonde haired girl whose features favor Effie’s, and yet Effie has called him Six. The girl told Katniss to call _her_ Six. _Are we supposed to consider them interchangeable_ , Katniss wonders.

Effie sighs. “How long until we can proceed?”

“At least two hours.”

Katniss watches the horror spread across Effie’s face which is quickly replaced by annoyance. “But that will put us three hours behind the other train,” Effie says with a scowl. “Do you have any idea what a restless press is like?”

The conductor looks unbothered and not the least bit apologetic but still he says, “Again, I apologize, Ms. Trinket.”

“I don’t need your apologies, Six.”

Katniss shifts again.

“What I need is subterfuge,” Effie says.

“Ma’am?”

“A distraction. I need a distraction. Where are we?”

The conductor brings up a map to the side of the screen. A pulsing red dot marks the their current location. A black ‘10’ marks the location of the district’s heart. He circles an area to the east. “We’re two klicks outside of U.S. park ruins, Ma’am.”

“Excuse me?”

The conductor clears his throat and for a moment Katniss thinks she sees panic flicker in his eyes but she pushes that thought away. She’s never heard of the expression either but she doubts Effie’s going to yell at him for using a word she doesn’t know. _Why would anyone outside of District 6 know transport words anyway?_ But still it was strange to see his eyes widen considering moments ago he’d been as indifferent in the face of Effie’s annoyance as Haymitch.

“A little over a mile, Ms. Trinket. The girl can show you.”

“Good. Also, send someone to clean up this mess that your stop created.”

“Yes, Miss. Trinket,” the conductor says before signing off.

“Effie,” Peeta says. “We don’t need a cleaning crew. It’s two broken saucers and a shattered tea cup. I can just–”

Peeta hisses and Katniss zeroes in on the sound. She is up out of her seat before she can think about it, pushing into his space, fingers in his hair. “What? What’s wrong?”

But he doesn’t answer her. She follows his gaze to the blood on his fingers. Katniss knows that it’s from the cut on his hand but she’s transported back to the Games. Back to the side of the lake where she found Peeta. Where he was practically half dead. Blood on his forehead, his cheeks, his chest, pus oozing from the cut on his leg. She pushes him back into his chair and drops to her knees, fingers hurriedly pulling his pant leg up because she needs to see. She has to make sure that the wound isn’t worse that he isn’t going to bleed out or die of infection.

Her hands touch metal, fingers gliding over encased circuitry and it floods back to her. Being pulled away from Peeta by Healers who shut him behind a plastic door. Where she could see but she couldn’t touch. The sharp sting of the needle as it pierced her neck. Then blackness. So much dark and--

A hand pulls on her elbow. Katniss has time to scream, “No,” before she’s pulled forward, her face buried in Peeta’s shoulder. Knees suddenly on each side of his legs. She feels his hand slide over her hair.

“Don’t touch her,” Peeta says. Katniss has never heard him sound so angry and rough. It grounds her. She knows the feelings that make those sounds. She’s felt them.

Katniss hears a sharp intake of breath. _Effie_ , she thinks. _That’s Effie._

“Kid, you’re okay.”

_That’s Haymitch._

“We’re on a train.”

_That’s Haymitch._

“You and Katniss are okay.”

_That’s Haymitch._

“Sweetheart, speak to him.”

Katniss says, “Peeta,” but words on being okay are stuck in her throat. Memories of the Games are still rushing through her. She feels like if she moves the world will shatter around them. They’ll be back in the cave. He’ll be dying. They’ll be back in the hovercraft. He’ll be dying. Here in his arms she can feel his breath shift her hair, feel the slight bite of his fingers on her neck. Their embrace is a bubble of safety. Everything else is dangerous. Everything else is a threat.

“Darlings?”

Effie.

“Darlings, what’s wrong?”

Peeta laughs. It’s tinged with bitterness. “Everything,” he says. When he begins to loosen his grip, Katniss shakes her head. 

“It’s not safe,” she whispers. “Can’t protect you. Not safe.”

Katniss can’t get a handle on her emotions. She knows they are on a train. She’s aware of Effie and Haymitch’s presence. They are staring. She is clinging to Peeta, and they are staring. She can’t care enough to let go. Here like this she can keep him safe. They don’t have to move. She doesn’t want to move. If they move the world comes rushing back. If they move she has to look at Haymitch and Effie. She has to explain her behavior, make excuses.

“Katniss?”

“They’ll take you away,” she whispers. _They_ are not here. She knows. She knows...and yet the flashes of Healers with their masks and their tools are too much. They took him once. She can’t let them take him again.  
The slide of Peeta’s hand from her neck to her back makes her shiver. “You won’t let them take me,” he says.

Katniss turns her face into his neck. Her lips press into his skin as she whispers, “No, protect you.” _Always_ , she thinks and the force of that thought slams Katniss back into reality.

Peeta must feel her stiffen because his hand moves up and down her back soothingly as he whispers, “We’re okay. I’ve got you.”

She shakes her head. _No. No. No. No. No._

Katniss pushes back and stumbles off Peeta’s lap as she stands on shaky legs. 

Peeta calls her name and reaches for her hand, but she flinches. 

“No,” she says.

Hurt flares in Peeta’s eyes.

Katniss grips the hair at her temple as she looks at him shaking her head.

“Sweetheart,” Haymtich calls as Effie says, “Darling?”

She bites her lip as she looks at the ceiling. _It’s too much_ , she thinks. _Too much._

Katniss turns without looking at her Mentors and leaves the room in a rush. She can hear Peeta following her in spite of Haymitch saying, “Kid, I’ve got her. Just wait--” before the door snaps his sentence in two.

She walks fast, ignoring him as he calls her name. There’s no one to stop her this time as she exits the train. The grass is soft beneath her boots, but it’s nothing like her woods. 

“Katniss, stop!”

She ignores him. There is green as far as the eyes can see but nothing else. The breeze rustles the blades. Katniss misses home. Misses the sounds of the babbling brook and squirrels scampering up trees. _I want to go home._

“Katniss, would you just--” Peeta grabs her hand.

Katniss spins and pushes him. “Don’t touch me.”

He looks shocked at first before anger makes his jaw clench. 

_Good_ , she thinks. 

“Don’t push me.”

“Why not,” she asks shoving him again. “You’re always pushing me.”

“To say more.” Shove.

“To do more.” Shove.

“To be more.” Shove.

When Katniss moves to shove Peeta again, he grabs her wrists.

“Stop it.”

“Why,” she asks breaking from his hold. “Because you say so? Because everyone says so? Am I always supposed to do what I’m told?”

“Katniss--”

She steps back. “No,” she says and points her finger at him. “ _You_ don’t have me.”

“You won’t let anyone have you, Katniss,” he says with the same sneer she is sure has settled on her own face. “Always the protector. Never protected.”

“What has your protection gotten me,” she asks. Her words land like a slap. She sees it in the widening of his eyes and the flare of his nostrils as his eyes narrow.

“Are you blaming this on me?”

“If you hadn’t have lied about--”

“I didn’t lie,” Peeta yells. He runs a hand through his hair. “Damn it, Katniss, you know I didn’t lie.”

She knows, but it still doesn’t stop her from saying, “You don’t love me, Peeta,” because if there is any truth in this world it is that fact. They are not in love. Whatever this is that zings through her that makes her what to hold him and hurt him--makes her want to erase him from her life and shield him from the world--It’s not love.

“You’re right,” Peeta says. “You can’t love someone who’d rather be cold and alone than suffer the possibility that she may need someone else.”

Katniss feels tears prick her eyes. She hates Peeta for making her feel like this. Before him she’d never warred with herself over her decisions. Never felt unstable and unsettled. He makes her unsure. Upturned and thrown.

“Hey,” Haymitch’s voice booms from the train’s doorway. “Enough. Kid, go take a walk.”

When Peeta doesn’t move by the time Haymitch walks up to him, he grabs his shoulder. “Walk. Now.” Haymitch grits. 

Peeta shakes his hand off. “I don’t understand you,” he says to Katniss. “And you sure as hell don’t understand me.”

“Peeta,” Haymtich says firmly.

“I’m going,” he says and heads to the back of the train.

Katniss doesn’t watch him go, but she feels it as he leaves. A part of her goes with him. Wills him to stay close. To stay in view. She hates this. Hates him. And is beginning to hate herself.

“I should have just left him to die in the Games,” Katniss says letting the sour coat of her anger linger on her tongue.

Haymitch sighs. “He didn’t mean what he said, sweetheart.”

Katniss looks up at him, faces the disappointment in his eyes and the tired line of his frown. “Peeta always means what he says.”

“True, but the boy doesn’t always say what he means. Neither do you.”

Katniss looks down, clutching the sleeves of her jacket. She refuses to feel bad about what she said. Peeta’s the one who throws his words like knives. He knows exactly where to hit so she’ll bleed. Twice now he’s made her feel so...she releases a breath that rattles. A quivering breath that almost makes her lip tremble.

“Eyes up, Katniss.”

Haymitch waits until she’s looking at him again. “If you’re going to survive this mess with Snow then you have to trust. You don’t do that you’re as good as dead.”

“I trust you.”

“Good,” he says. “Now you need to trust Peeta.”

When Katniss opens her mouth to speak, Haymitch holds up his hand. “I am going back on the train to take a well deserved mid morning nap. You two have fifteen minutes before Effie comes to get you to go find those ruins. Talk. Don’t talk. I don’t care. Just find some time to figure your shit out. Okay?”

She nods.

“I need to hear you say it, sweetheart.”

“Okay,” Katniss grumbles, wiping her stinging eyes with her sleeve.

“Okay,” Haymitch repeats before pulling her into a hug. “Come here.”

She doesn’t wrap her arms around him, but Haymitch doesn’t let go.

“I’m not cold,” Katniss says into the fabric of his shirt.

Haymitch presses a kiss to her hair. “No, you’re not. And you’re not alone either.”

_Feels like it_ , Katniss thinks as she turns her head, keeping Peeta’s pacing figure in her sight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Feedback is appreciated. If you'd like to drop me a line on tumblr, I'm [asoldierwitch](http://asoldierwitch.tumblr.com/).


	5. my heart will never say so

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It did not take 7 months to get this chapter out which makes me very happy. I'm trying to get faster with updating, so bear with me a bit. As I've said before this fic is a labor of love and it is something that I intend to finish. Once again, I'd like to thank Ikea for being my cheerleader throughout this. I'm so glad that I can call her my friend, and that she listens to me rant about narrative structure, Collins leaving me with holes to fill, and my writing not coming out how I want it to. Okay, and with that, I hope y'all enjoy this chapter!
> 
> chapter title from [Reverend](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1zxzHuSi5ng) by Kings of Leon

Katniss smoothes her hands over her skirt as she looks at herself in the standing mirror. She’s in white again with pale purple and green spots dotting the fabric. The picture of innocence even with peaks of her skin showing through her top. _I am a lie_ , she thinks. _A creation_.

“Little bird?”

She turns and watches Cinna slide into the room. He’s in jean overalls though for some reason he has insisted that he’s wearing a jumpsuit. To her, he looks no different than some of the Seam men who hang out at Greasy Sae’s on Saturdays with exception to his gold eyeshadow and his hair that hangs like copper ropes.

Cinna lets the door click shut behind him. “Sorry, you asked me not to call you that.”

Katniss’ eyebrows scrunch together in confusion.

“Well, _you_ didn’t,” he laughs lowly. “Your _face_ did.”

“It’s fine.”

“No,” Cinna says stopping before her and requesting that Katniss give him a turn with a whirl of his finger. “I don’t want to make you any more sad than you already are.”

Katniss stiffens, but does what he asks feeling her skirt flare up a bit as she moves in a circle. “I’m not...I’m not sad,” she says.

Cinna hums as he adjusts the sleeves of her dress. “Portia told me it’s what you called Rue.”

She looks down and swallows but doesn’t say anything. 

“I didn’t watch the Games,” Cinna admits. “I checked to see if you were alive each night but I didn’t watch any highlights or record any footage. The Games are…” He exhales and it’s stuttery. “The Games are hard.”

Katniss crosses her arms and bites her lip.

“I’m sorry, honey,” he says, looking down at her. 

“For what?”

Cinna sighs and his shoulders fall with the breath. “For not telling you that life after the Games is harder.”

Katniss looks at the dresser. “We shouldn’t be talking about this.”

He follows her gaze to the empty surface. “I thought removing the violets from the room would help but here or gone it doesn’t seem to matter. You’re still stuck on those flowers.”

_They’re a warning_ , she thinks. _He’s watching me. You don’t understand_.

“Every room in the house has violets, Katniss,” Cinna says trying to catch her eye. “It’s this district’s flower.”

Katniss tears her eyes away from the dresser, focuses instead on the warm brown of Cinna’s eyes. “Every room?”

Cinna nods. “Those weren’t sent to you.”

Katniss doesn’t respond, but she feels her body unwind from the tight hold it had on her frame. The violets had been fresh cut with a lace ribbon tied around their stems. She’d wanted to look through their petals to find a card from Snow; she’d wanted to throw them out the window.

“If you haven’t told anyone,” Cinna starts. “You should. I told Portia about mine.”

She freezes, worry quickly replacing her relief. 

Cinna grabs Katniss’ hands and leads her to the bed. “Sorry, honey. Should have led into that revelation better. Portia’s always saying I have no tact. I’m working on it.” He grabs a chair from the corner and flips it around so that he’s sitting with his chest pressed against its back, his elbows crossed along the top as he rests his chin on his arms.

“I’m what they call a Controversial,” he says. “I push a little too hard at all the right seams. A single red rose delivered to my apartment isn’t new to me. It means they’re paying attention.” Cinna cocks his head back to the dresser. “It means _he’s_ paying attention.”

Katniss’ eyes widen in alarm. “But that’s--”

“Unwise,” Cinna fills in. He shrugs. “So, I’ve been told.”

His nonchalance bothers her. _Why isn’t he afraid?_

“I have myself and Portia in this world,” Cinna answers as if he heard her thought. “My mom’s gone and my father was never around. Portia will be fine whatever happens.”

“How do you know?”

Cinna smiles. His eyes light up with his love for Portia. They’ve done that every time he’s spoken her name. 

Katniss wonders if that is what her parent’s eyes looked like before everything went to hell.

“Portia has connections,” he says with a lift to his lips, amused. “Her father was a prominent Capitol Mentor. He has more sway and influence than most people will ever have in their lives without being a Senator or the President himself. She’s fine.”

“Has she ever gotten a rose?”

Cinna snorts and chuckles a little under his breath. It’s a little bitter which surprises Katniss. “Sorry,” he says. “No. She hasn’t. Probably never will. Portia has the privilege of skating up and down the line without fault or blame. I imagine she’s like Peeta in that way.”

Katniss looks at him quizzically.

“You and I,” he points between the two of them. “Are a little too loud. Can’t help it. It’s just our way. Those two shine bright enough to hide their true feelings in plain sight. Everyone sees it when we poke the trackerbee’s nest, but everyone assume it’s an accident when those two do it.”

Cinna’s words shift something in Katniss. Her mouth fills with the want to--her hands flex on the bed’s white comforter--the want to finally just tell someone about the weight that has been sitting on her chest. 

“I hate--,” she swallows the words and looks down. Katniss knows that it’s safe to talk to Cinna. He’d never mention anything she’s said to him in private to anyone else but she’s not used to sharing how she feels with anyone but Gale, and she hasn’t been able to share much with him since she stepped off the train after the Games. It’s not Gale’s fault. Katniss knows she’s always had a tough time opening up to people including him but she now holds pieces of herself that she cannot share with him. Pieces that do not belong between them or in the woods; pieces that do not belong to _them_. She has tried to quiet these parts of herself but they sit molten in the bottom of her stomach and smothering them has done nothing but make her... _angry_ , Katniss thinks. _So angry_.

Cinna lifts her chin with his hand, thumb stroking the side of her cheek before letting go. “You hate that you burn bright enough for the world to see every bit of you even the darkest, ugliest parts.”

Katniss fills pinned by his gaze as he continues.

“And you hate that Peeta’s shine blinds the world to his imperfections...his flaws.”

She thinks of their first night back in District 12, after the cameras were put away and every possible question was answered. Katniss remembers feeling ridiculous in her pink dress, the bricks and mortar of her district clashing with the Capitol design Effie had insisted upon. Out there the hem that had gently brushed her knees had begun to scratch and the straps of her once comfortable heels bit into her ankles. She felt wrong dressed as she was under the stars of her home. The only thing that did feel right was sitting with Peeta. His tie was crooked, and he was buzzed from the wine he’d been drinking from the bottle at his side but his presence felt warm...initially. In hindsight, Katniss knows she probably should have paid more attention to him going from no alcohol at all to nearly a whole bottle on his own but at the time she’d been too busy watching the moonlight dance across his skin. 

Peeta said nothing to her as they sat on the front steps of the Mayor’s house but over time Katniss began to feel the wall building in the space between their bodies. She opened her mouth to say something, anything but the words weren’t there. Katniss didn’t have an answer for him about her feelings and beyond that she didn’t know what to say, so she stayed silent as he slipped away from her. She thinks that night might have been the first time that sick feeling bloomed in her gut. She’s unsure because the memory of Peeta kissing her eclipses the roil she felt at the growing rift between them. 

Katniss remembers the way her palms dug into the stone of the steps when Peeta leaned over. 

He held her cheek in his hand as he pressed his lips to hers. The soft brush of his tongue asking for entrance had made her gasp, and he brushed his thumb against her cheek in a gentle arc as he kissed her like he was saying a final goodbye. 

When Peeta broke the kiss, he’d rested his forehead against hers. His eyes were closed but hers were open. She could see the sadness in his face as he whispered, “I’m sorry,” and licked his lips. “I just wanted to do it once without the cameras.” 

Peeta wouldn’t look at her after he pulled away, instead he busied himself with grabbing his bottle and making his way down the steps. He turned to face her once his feet touched the street, but his eyes were shuttered and dull. He’d said, “I’ll see you around, Katniss,” and then walked away.

Katniss watched him until she couldn’t see him anymore, and when Gale opened the door laughing, cracking a joke about Madge’s house being big but this definitely not being the bathroom she said she was going to, she had felt irritation and then confusion at being irritated which just made her frustrated for reasons she couldn’t explain. When Gale noticed he quieted and shut the door, so he could sit beside her without letting the night air into the house. He placed his jacket on her shoulders but Katniss wasn’t cold. She remembers feeling hot as she stared in the direction Peeta had left in and that heat lit into a slow burning anger that she has not been able to put out.

“Sometimes,” Cinna says. “It’s easier to be angry than it is to be confused.”

“I understand anger,” Katniss says. She wants to say more but her thoughts are a tangled mess.

“So, do I,” Cinna says, pain crosses his face as he speaks. “I was angry for a long time after my mother died.” 

“She couldn’t give me much growing up,” he says looking down. “We lived in the housing units, survived mostly off credit, and ate through service work.”

Cinna looks up and blinks tears back as he looks toward the window. “Ah, it sounds so...when I…,” he trails off.

“Cinna?”

He turns to Katniss, and her heart picks up rhythm. She’s never seen so much regret and sorrow laid bare by him. In her presence, Cinna has flittered between happy, annoyed, and sad but never heartbroken. Katniss takes his hand from under his arm.

Cinna smiles sadly and squeezes her hand before letting go. “Her name was Ana,” he says wiping at his eyes. “She used to say someone must have stolen me from 8 and switched her baby to me because no child of hers could possibly be this talented with fabric.” He laughs and pitches his voice slightly higher. “Are my eyes deceiving me? I can’t even stitch but my boy can make a dress out of plastic? Whose genes do you have?”

A bubble of laughter leaves Katniss mouth as she pictures a younger Cinna and his mother.

“She was proud of me,” he says. “My mom grew up in the Units, but she saw my gift as a way out for me.”

Katniss watches the light fade from Cinna’s eyes as he continues. She wishes there were something she could say or do, but she knows that there’s not. A parent loved and gone is a parent missed for life. Time eases that pain but it will never go away.

“The day she died, I was supposed to go to the Company for a drug trial. They were offering a week’s worth of meal coverage, and our cards were empty. My mom took my spot. Told me to focus on finishing my portfolio for the Crayon Box so that I could hand deliver it. She said it would make an impression on the Admissions Officer. Show them that I’m not a file in a computer waiting to be passed over. She’d kissed me for luck and ruffled my hair before leaving, laughing at my annoyed face as she told me she loved me, and she’d see me in a few hours.”

Cinna releases a shaky breath before saying, “She died two hours later.” He looks off toward the window again, shaking his head. “I must have just been heading out the door then, completely unaware. I handed my portfolio in and raced home, eager to tell her that she was right. The Admissions Officer had called me bold and fresh, and I had wanted to tell her about his delight in my designs but a Peacekeeper was waiting for me instead. He said that there had been an accident.”

Katniss blinks back tears and tries not to think about the Keeper that had come to her door. She’ll never forget her mother's wail or the sound of her knees hitting their wood floor.

“One of the interns had mixed the wrong solution. The testers didn’t catch it until three trialists took sick and by then ten people had already taken the shot.”

He turns back to her. “He handed me a letter.”

“Full of apologies,” she whispers.

“Attached was a year long meal card and 2000 credits.”

_The price of a life_ , Katniss thinks. _A year of food and a bit of compensation for your loss_. She shakes her head and whispers, “The system,” not caring how it sounds or if the walls are listening. _This is what they do. This is what they have always done_. 

Cinna nods. “They never tell you what you want to hear. That things are going to change or someone is going to be punished for their mistake but I asked anyway.”

He huffs in amusement at her surprise. “I know. I know, but I had to ask. The Peacekeeper was right there, and I knew if I didn’t say something that I would never get another chance to see if her life, and the lives of those other people, meant anything to them. I’ll never forget the look on his face. I hadn't ever been on the receiving end of so much pity. He told me that the intern was a Senator’s son and the likelihood of him being punished for his mistake was zero and that I should just let it go.”

“But you didn’t.”

“No, I didn’t,” Cinna says, light slowly returning to his eyes again. “I decided to dedicate myself to making an impression like my mother told me. Created a real chip on my shoulder that’s for sure. I was surrounded by entitled socialites who thought it was cute that I was from the Units but didn’t see me lasting long despite my marks being higher than theirs and the tiniest beginnings of press interest I was starting to garner. Practically everyone but the faculty and Portia felt that way.”

Cinna stands to turn his chair around, the copper ropes of his hair swinging as he does so quickly and sits. He rubs his nose with a laugh, looking away and then back at Katniss. “The first time Portia and I worked together we got into a big fight. I called her a princess, and she called me an asshole. Told me about myself right there in the middle of the workroom. She said that I was brilliant but smug. That I turned my nose up at any design that didn’t have a message as if controversy is what the world needs at every moment. She said sometimes beauty is the goal of the day not railing against circumstance and society. And then she left saying that she was going to go get some tea and that she hoped that by the time she got back that my head would be out of my ass and I’d be ready work.”

Katniss’ laugh is as bright as Cinna’s. Their mirth fills the once somber room, pushing their sadness to the recesses of their memories.

“Portia challenges me,” he says through a few left over chuckles. “She makes me better. For awhile I resented her for that. I thought she was a distraction, and I hated that she was so privileged. I think part of me still does, but she’s also tough as nails and relentless in her pursuit of doing what is right whether it’s for herself or someone else. I love that she regularly stops by the clinics in her area to make sure they’re fully stocked with XX pills so that girls like her don’t have to wait weeks between refills simply because someone didn’t care enough. And that she always looks through portfolios from the Units first when she’s looking to hire interns because she wants to give them the chance few others will give them.”

Cinna sighs. “For a long time, I felt like I didn’t deserve her, so I pushed her away. I told myself that she didn’t understand me or my anger that I would just taint what’s good about her, but you know what? Portia is good but she's also petty and underhandedly vindictive. She gives as much as she gets, and as she’s told me before I do not get to choose whether or not she loves me. It’s a done deal, and she’s found that it’s not going anywhere so I might as well just accept it, shut up, and kiss her because she’s not going anywhere either.”

Katniss laughs and then goes quiet. She picks at the covers before saying, “Peeta thinks he loves me.”

“And you don’t know what to do with that.”

She shakes her head.

“Then don’t do anything with it. You’re 16, Katniss. You aren’t supposed to have all the answers, that’s what growing up is about.”

“Peeta seems to have some.”

Cinna snorts. “I’m sure he thinks he does, but he doesn’t have them all.”

They are interrupted by a soft knock at the door. Portia pokes her head in, purple bangs falling into her eyes before she sweeps them to the side. “You two, okay,” she asks. “We’ve got about fifteen minutes but Ef’s already pacing, so if you could be down in five to save us all from her meltdown that would be great.”

He rolls his eyes as he looks over his shoulder to address Portia. “When is that woman not having a meltdown?”

Portia eyes narrow. “Play nice, Cinna. I like Effie and this tour is stressful on Mentors. You know that.”

“I think it’s more stressful on Victors.”

“You’re not going to bait me into a spat for your own amusement,” she says and then looks at Katniss, her face softening. “You look beautiful, honey. I wasn’t sure if you ate yet, so there’s a fruit bowl downstairs with your name on it if you’re hungry.”

“Thank you, Portia.”

She smiles. “You’re welcome.”

“We’ll be down in a minute,” Cinna says.

“You better be, Cinnamon,” she says before closing the door.

“Your name is Cinnamon,” Katniss asks, trying to stifle a laugh.

“No,” Cinna scoffs. “She’s still mad that I called her a princess. It was five years ago, and she still hasn’t let it go. I told you she’s petty.”

Katniss laughs and leans back onto her elbows on the bed. When her laugh peeters out, she asks, “What am I going to do?”

Cinna pats her on the knee and stands, grabbing her hands so she can stand with him. “Right now, you are going to learn all about District 10 and visit some cows. Later, try talking to Peeta.”

“I already talked to Peeta.”

“Then talk again,” he says. “You two are going to be stuck together for the next few weeks. I’m not saying you have to have a heart to heart with the boy every time you open your mouth but maybe you should get to know him better.”

“Peeta did say he wanted to try being friends.”

“Good. Then try being friends. First step? Talking.”

Katniss scrunches her nose in distaste. “That’s not how I became friends with Gale.” _Talking came later_ , she thinks.

“Peeta isn’t Gale.”

“I know that,” she says, brows furrowing in annoyance.

Cinna hums as he adjusts her sleeves again before looking at her. “Then maybe you should stop treating him as if he should be.”

Katniss doesn’t respond to Cinna’s comment, asking instead if they are done. She doesn’t look at him as she asks but she knows he must see her shutting down.

“Yeah, hon,” Cinna says and the disappointment in his voice makes her flinch. “We’re done.” He puts the chair back in the corner.

_He shared with you; you should share with him._

Before he can open the door, Katniss says, “My dad’s name was Robin, but my mom called him Robbie. Everything I know about survival, he taught me. He died when a tunnel in the mine collapsed. I was 10. I’ve been taking care of my family since then.”

“And who’s been taking care of you?”

“No one,” she says.

“Maybe you should let someone try. You don’t have to do everything alone.”

“I don’t. I have…” Katniss trails off but Cinna finishes her thought.

“Gale. I know. But you know as well as I do that he can’t help you with this, and there’s going to come a time when he can’t help you at all.”

“I hate this.”

“I know,” Cinna says. “But don’t let your anger and confusion keep someone from getting close to you. You’ll only be fighting a losing battle and hurting that person in the process.”

Katniss stares at the floor and listens as the door clicks shut behind him.

\----

The barn smells. Katniss figured it would considering the livestock pens in 12 never smelled that great either but apparently Effie has never been around animals that aren’t domesticated. Her disgust, though hidden partially by the handkerchief practically plastered to her nose, would amuse Katniss if it weren’t for her preoccupation with what to say to Peeta.

He’d grabbed her hand as soon as they stepped outside of the Mayor’s house and had looked pleasant enough for the cameras but he didn’t say anything to her as they made their way to the barn. Granted it wasn’t that long of a walk but she saw the way Effie’s eyes kept flickering toward the press beside them as the silence crept on and then settled over them as they began their wait for the mayor to arrive.

“I liked the ruins we stopped at,” Katniss says, pitching her voice so that everyone can hear but turning her body so that the conversation stays between her and Peeta. What Effie had referred to as ‘fairgrounds’ seems to Katniss as safe a topic as she’s going to get as she attempts to extend an olive branch to Peeta.

“Hmm…,” is all he says as he continues looking down toward the other end of the large barn where the cows are kept.

Katniss stops herself from glaring. She knows that their talk at the ruins went nowhere considering neither of them was willing to apologize, and Peeta only stated that he was out of line but didn’t say it wouldn’t happen again and didn’t take what he said back. 

She tries again. “The ferris wheel was nice.” _Even if it was nearly buried beneath dirt and looked like an oversized tire rim_.

“Yes, very circular.”

A member of the press snickers.

_Fine_ , Katniss thinks. _I’ll make you talk to me_. She turns her attention to one of the cameras filming them and speaks to the man holding it. 

“Don’t mind him,” she says. “He’s just mad because he fell.”

Peeta keeps his eyes on the cows but Katniss sees the irritation forming in the pout of his lips. “I didn’t fall. You pushed me.”

Katniss tries not to let surprise bloom on her face. She’d meant to goad Peeta into banter for the camera not rehash their previous argument in front of reporters and Effie’s increasingly concerned face. If she had known that he’d bring it up in front of an audience, Katniss would have kept quiet.

“Peeta--”

“You pushed me,” he says again taking his gaze away from the cows and training it on her.

“It was an accident.” It wasn’t. Katniss recognizes that she was angry and she took it out on him. She pushed him because it felt good at the time. Because she had a public episode and she missed home and she’d wanted to stop feeling so damn confused every time he touches her, every time she lets him--

Peeta says her name, and Katniss hopes that the others can’t hear the imploring note in his tone.

“Okay, a mistake,” she relents. Katniss can admit that much to him but the memory of the statue he threw in her direction keeps her from apologizing.

Peeta searches her eyes for something but once again Katniss isn’t sure for what but whatever it is he must find it because he nods and pulls her into his side, throwing his arm around her shoulder. His smile lights his face even though Katniss notices it doesn’t light his eyes.

“Thanks to gravity and Katniss, I fell off the carousel,” Peeta says in explanation, lying through his teeth. “Bruised my butt and my ego.”

He looks down at her. “I liked the carousel. It was rusty and half in the ground, but I liked it.”

“Because of the horses,” Katniss asks. She remembers how excited Peeta was on the way back from the train after showing her his paintings. He’d developed an interest as a child that lasted until he realized 12 had no need for horses, and he’d never get to see one in person. That interest came rushing back at the prospect of getting to go to the District 11 stables but the tour was cancelled and then the riot happened.

“Yeah,” Peeta says, his smile just as soft as his voice is wistful. 

At the sound of the rear barn doors creaking open, they all turn their attention to the man walking through the split. His head is down as he makes his way, pulling on his gloves as he comes. The broad brim of his hat blocks his face from view. When he lifts his head, Katniss stiffens. The man is jean clad with a mustache as grey as his shirt, and he immediately reminds Katniss of her grandfather. This man is taller and he is not wearing glasses but he has the same stern and disapproving countenance. 

“Afternoon,” he says once he reaches them, his voice as gruff as his face would predict. “I am Mayor Sterling. Welcome to District 10. I expect you all to give my district the courtesy of its full title. You are late by two and a half hours, so unless you have a question on how to properly address me, save it for when I have the time.”

Effie steps forward. “I took the liberty to inform the press to refer to you by your title when in conversation. As far as the press releases, their articles, blog posts, and other such media they have been instructed to use your full title, Mayor William ‘Bull’ Sterling of District 10. They know not to call you Billie.”

Katniss watches as he takes in the bright red farmer’s plaid of Effie’s silk shirt, tight fitting red skirt, and opened toed heels with barely leased disdain.

“Good,” he says. “Did you also take the liberty to pack proper footwear, Ms. Trinket?”

Mayor Sterling doesn’t give Effie an opportunity to answer, instead he waves over a boy who had come through the rear door after him. “Go get a pair of Wells from the shed. Red ones. The woman will want to match. And if there’s a fresh pair of socks there grab them.”

“Mayor,” Effie says, trying not to look flustered. “That’s not necessary.”

“I believe it is, Miss Trinket. I cannot conduct this tour with your feet exposed as they are.”

“As you said, we’re two and a half hours late,” she argues. “I figured we’d skip the barn and move on to town.”

“Well, you figured wrong. Now, I cannot do anything about the girl being in white but at least her feet are covered and those boots of hers are sturdy. Your shoes, however, are improper, so you can either accept the Wells or wait up at the house for us to finish the barns tour.”

Sterling turns to address the press. “You will cover this district tour and whatever else Ms. Trinket has on her agenda. Do not ask my citizens any questions unless you’ve been given leave to do so. Do not wander beyond my residence unless you are retiring to the train for the night. You violate these demands, and I will personally put you on a stock train back to the Capitol. If you have a problem with that take it up with the President.”

Katniss stands straighter when the mayor looks at her and Peeta. She knows that assessing gaze. She’d seen it aimed at her from across the busy streets of District 12 more times than she would like to admit but instead of ducking away or pretending she doesn’t see it, Katniss steps out from under Peeta’s arm and does something she never could work up the nerve to do as a child in front of a grandfather who despised her very existence. She sticks her hand out, introduces herself, and asserts her place. “Katniss Everdeen,” she says. “Victor.” 

The cameras flash as the mayor shakes her hand. “Indeed,” he says before leaning in to whisper, “What happened in District 11 will not happen here. Do you understand?”

Katniss smiles through the deflation of the bravado she had a moment ago and steps to the side so Peeta can shake the man’s hand as well.

Once introductions are over, and Effie reluctantly puts on her Wells, Mayor Sterling leads them all on a tour of the cow barn explaining the different jobs each cowhand has and instructs the boy who brought the Wells through certain tasks. 

Katniss barely hears him. Her thoughts are tied up in the mayor’s warning and the subsequent threat he whispered to Peeta. _Behave and keep her in check, boy, or I’ll do it for you_.

She’d remained pleasant faced, allowing Peeta to take her hand and squeeze hers as hard as she squeezed his, but inside she was fuming. _I am not a piece to be handled.No one checks me_. But then Katniss remembered the card Snow sent her after the D11 riots. Her anger plummeted into the sick feeling that has not left her stomach since that man visited her family and threatened her loved ones. 

_Calm yourself. This is not a game you can afford to lose._

When a cowhand walks up to the mayor with a gun and hands it to him, Katniss feels Peeta tense beside her. She’s not sure if her thumb rubbing against his hand is meant to calm him or herself, but she knows that this on top of Sterling’s threats have put them both on alert. Katniss would like to think that the mayor wouldn’t murder a citizen in broad daylight but less than a day ago she watched the mayor of District 11 shoot a man in the head in front of his district and in full view of the sole camera that was left on the rooftops to film what was happening.

Katniss expects for Peacekeepers to enter and for Sterling to tell a cowhand to conduct the tour in his absence but the mayor does nothing of the sort. Instead he tucks the gun into the waistband of his jeans and says, “One of my cows has been declared unfit. I’m going to have to put her down. Follow me.”

He leads them to a pen outside the barn with a cow in its enclosure. She’s brown and white and barely able to stand even though she tries when the mayor enters her pen. He makes shushing sounds as he approaches her. It’s the softest his voice has been since he introduced himself.  
As Sterling pets the cow’s neck, he signals for a cowhand to pass him a metal band. He slips it onto his glove and twists. A soft hum fills the silence.

The cow has caught onto what is about to happen to her. Her distressed noises are echoed by the cows in the barn, their pacing and kicking against the floor unnerves the press as they watch.

“Boys.”

Two cowhands hop over the side of the pen and show the mayor their hands when he says, “Gloves,” before one takes hold of the cow’s head to keep it steady and the other holds her body down.

Effie hurriedly steps forward. “Mayor Sterling,” she begins, her voice a tad shaky before she clears it. “Sir, surely given your audience, you would prefer to take this action without us present.”

“No, Ms. Trinket,” he says not looking at her, his focus on firmly grabbing hold of the cow’s neck and yanking upward. “I would not.”

The cow’s eyes glaze over the same way Mayor Cransberry’s did when Cyress made him heel. Her blank stare and slumped body causes a shiver to run through Katniss’ frame. She startles slightly when she feels the rough fabric of Peeta’s jacket falls on her shoulders.

“I’m not cold,” Katniss whispers, though she still pulls his jacket close to her, calming herself with his scent.

“I know,” Peeta says, his hands in his pockets as he continues to stare at the cow.

She moves closer, brushing her arm against his.

“Mayor--”

“Ms. Trinket this isn’t the Capitol,” Sterling says pulling the gun from his waistband. “You people come out here every year wanting to learn about the districts and film it for your entertainment. Well, I am going to educate you today. Think of this as a lesson that everyone in Panem must learn.”

“The hard truth of the world,” he starts, pressing the gun against the back of the cow’s head. “Is that the diseased must always be cut from the herd.”

The mayor pulls the trigger. The loud crack of its firing causes most of the press to jump. A couple of them stumble off to heave by a tree nearby at the sight of the blood spray and the cow’s corpse.

“The diseased must not be allowed to survive lest they spoil the lot. I know that.” Sterling looks at Katniss and Peeta. “They know that and now you do, too.”

“Your demonstration,” Effie says, her hands balled up at her side. “While crude has made your point. Now I shall make mine. That will be the only slaughter we shall bear witness to today, and you would do well to remember that while these lands are under your domain, this tour is sanctioned by the President to educate the people in the industries of each district not display the killing of cattle.”

“Slaughter is necessary, Ms. Trinket,” Sterling says as he gives his gun to one of his cowhands. “Otherwise, you would not eat. In any case, if people can stomach the Games then they can stomach seeing a cow be put down.”

“It is not the same.”

“Slaughter is slaughter, M’am, no matter how you dress it up.”

Mayor Sterling exits the pen leaving his cowhands to take care of the cow’s carcass. “When your people are done covering my grounds with their vomit, come meet me over by the pig barn. One of my sows just had piglets.”

Katniss puts Peeta’s jacket on as she watches the mayor walk away. “We need to be careful here,” she says to Peeta.

“Very careful,” he replies.

\---

A flute of cider warms in Katniss’ hands as she stares up at Mayor Sterling’s house. They are hundred of miles from District 11, but she hasn’t been able to look at the structure without thinking of Lynn and Flor. They put her on the train last, folding her within their arms as they whispered their wishes for her to be well. Flor had called her Esperanza and urged her to listen to the voice of the people while Lynn told her to listen to her heart. Katniss did nothing but watch them be led away by Peacekeepers as the train pulled from the platform. _What could I have done_ , she wonders. _A man was shot and killed in front of me. I couldn’t do anything then, and I won’t be able to do anything if it happens again. The only thing I can do is protect my family and that means doing what I’m told_.

Katniss shakes her head and puts her flute on a table, looking around. Under the torch lights and the dim glow of the lanterns hung in the trees, Mayor Sterling’s yard looks soft and dream like. His farmhands are milling about filling drinks and making conversation with the press and the Tour crew. Katniss is sure that they’ve been coached on what they can and cannot say. The mayor is a man who keeps his people on a short leash. They speak when he says they can speak, and they follow his orders to the letter. The townsfolk, however, have been noticeably absent all evening.

A burst of laughter turns Katniss’ attention to a table closer to the food spread. Effie is holding court with the press no doubt telling them some false story about their time at the ruins. No one will be able to catch her in a lie since it was only her, Katniss, Peeta, Six, and her own camera in the ruins. Effie’s got a monopoly on the story and the press know it. Katniss is sure Effie will fill her in on the story in the morning. Effie likes to keep her lies close to the truth. She says they are easier to stick to that way. Katniss suspects Peeta feels the same way.

Her eyes scan the small gathering again, brows furrowing when she notices someone missing. Katniss hugs her arms across herself as she walks over to the table where Haymitch is sitting nursing a tumbler of watered down liquor. She had learned in school that winter up north could be erratic. Some days cold and other days hot, but her textbook didn’t make mention of the temperature drops at night. Though it could just be her dress.

Effie had raved over the white lace bodice using words Katniss had never heard before to talk about the detail and the illusionary quality of the fabric. She remarked about the treatment of the lace and the netting that was a twist on a sleeved dress with playful decolletage that extends to the navel and yet is girlish, not overdone, or oversexed. “And the skirt, my goodness, the skirt,” she’d exclaimed. “Such a lovely tint of yellow and a bell skirt at that. We must have a full page in the magazines. Cinna, you do such good work. Let me see the shoes. We’re going with those low tops you like, correct? You know I am a Traditionalist, but I am willing to defer to your expertise in this. How can I not? Look at her!”

Upon seeing Katniss the press had gasped and immediately started taking pictures but it was Peeta who had warmed Katniss’ cheeks. He didn’t say anything but his eyes had widen as she walked down the steps to meet him, and the kiss he’d pressed into her hair had seemed private somehow even as the room was alive with flashes and comments from the press. She’d clutched his suit jacket and turned into him, trying to ignore the flutter in her stomach. A flutter that reappeared every time he stole a look at her throughout the evening. She hadn’t been cold under Peeta’s gaze but now that she’s noticed his absence, the night’s chill has begun to set in.

“Where’s Peeta,” Katniss asks Haymitch once she reaches the table, pulling up a chair and ignoring the eyes of the table’s occupants who have suddenly found Haymitch’s corner interesting.

Haymitch turns his body, setting his tumblr down and blocking Katniss from their view much to their disappointment from what she can see of them over his shoulder. Though she knows that even as they slowly return to their own conversations, they have an ear out for hers.

“He called it a night.”

“Why didn’t he say anything?”

Haymitch sighs and moves in closer, pitching his voice low. “You guys had a long day, and he didn’t want to bother you.”

“How would saying goodnight be bothersome?”

“Look, sweetheart, you walked quite a bit today. He’s not used to doing so much in one day.”

Katniss swallows and busies her hands in her lap. “His leg?”

“Yeah.”

“I thought Effie and Portia brought him prosthetics that are supposed to be…” she trails off when she looks up and sees Haymitch glaring at her.

“You didn’t read up on anything, did you,” he asks, anger showing in his tone.

Before Effie returned to the Capitol, she had left her some books on prosthetics and how to help someone whose leg had been amputated. Effie had said she’d of course given more literature to Peeta but she felt that Haymitch and her should have some books as well so that they could help him through this transition. She’d cupped Katniss’ cheek and said, “You helped him beat the odds, I’m sure you can help him with this.” 

But Katniss hadn’t done more than flip through some of the pages. She had meant to do more but a few days went by before she could convince herself to go over and on the day she had decided to cross the distance and see Peeta, Delly Cartwright had walked up to his door. Katniss saw them embrace through her window. It lingered and she saw a smile cross Peeta’s face she didn’t recognize. In that moment, she’d decided to head over to Hazelle’s earlier than she had planned to wait for Gale to get off from his shift at the mine. Katniss had told herself she’d give Peeta time with Delly and visit the following day instead but Delly was there the day after as well and everyday following that and she realized…

“He doesn’t need me for that,” she says, looking away from Haymitch to stare at the front door of the house.

“Katniss.”

The firmness in Haymitch’s voice forces her to look at him.

“The kid needs you as much as you need him, and even if that weren’t true you still should have read the damn books.”

The usual spark of anger that flares to life whenever Haymitch takes that tone with her fizzles out when she looks at the front door to the house again. Months have passed and she has had ample time to read what she was given, but she hasn’t. Katniss had spoken a bit with Drake Thomas, an old friend of her father’s who had lost a leg to gangrene, but he didn’t have a prosthesis. He couldn’t afford one, so he got around on crutches and hitched a ride with some buddies whenever he needed to go into town. 

Thomas had said, “I’m sure that Trinket woman gave the Mellark boy some books to read, but she’s Capitol and used to having health care at her convenience. You tell him to put some mineral oil on that leg of his and not to get too attached to the plastic one. He’s a townie, so he may not take well to me saying this but if he ever needs to talk tell him to drop by Greasy Sae’s on Saturday nights. I’m usually there holding up a corner with the rest of those coal digging knuckleheads.”

Katniss doesn’t know whether or not Peeta ever went to see Thomas. She wasn’t the one to pass along the message, her mother did with a note and a jar of mineral oil she’d acquired for him. Admittedly, Katniss knows very little about how Peeta’s been dealing with his leg and, if she’s honest, she hasn’t really thought about it past the first few weeks they had returned to 12.

“Has he been using the oil my mother’s been sending over,” she asks.

“Up until the start of the tour,” Haymitch says. “Effie brought him these gel liners for his socks that she wanted him to try. Said something about them being infused with Aloe Vera and mineral oil.”

“To help with skin irritation and dryness.”

He nods. “Peeta still has to use some kind of special skin lotion and ointment though.”

“Is he--”

“Katniss, if you want to know how the kid is doing then you need to ask him. I’m not your go between guy.”

She looks toward the door again. “Okay,” she says standing up and pushing her chair in.

“Where are you going?”

“To check on him,” Katniss says.

“He’s asleep.”

“I know.”

“Sweetheart--”

“I’ll see you in the morning, Haymitch.”

Katniss does her best to avoid the attention of the press, but she’s aware that it’s a losing battle. Someone is inevitably going to take her picture as she climbs the steps and heads into the house but she’s hoping that the whole yard doesn’t come to a stand still. With a deep breath, she opens the door and ignores the quiet snaps of her photo being taken from several feet away. 

\---

Katniss opens Peeta’s door enough to pass through and hopes that his bed is far enough in the room that the light from the hallway doesn’t pass over his face. She sighs in relief when she sees that it's tucked up in the corner of the opposite wall and gently closes the door.

Like her room, there is a chair by the window. Katniss quietly grabs it and sits, watching the rise of and fall of Peeta’s back as he sleeps. His prosthesis stands in the corner. It is only the second time Katniss has ever seen one of his. _It’s been six months_ , she thinks. She turns away shamefaced. _Six months_.

Katniss slips her shoes off and brings her feet onto the chair, hugging her knees. “I don’t know why this is so hard,” she says. “You’re asleep it’s not like you can hear me and yet…”

She presses her forehead to her knees. “Honestly, Peeta, it’s always hard with you. I never know what to say and when I do speak I end up saying the wrong thing. I’m not used to caring so much for someone I barely know but I do and it scares me.”

“It scares me, too.”

Katniss lifts her head. “You’re awake,” she says dropping her feet to the floor. Clearing her throat she starts reaching for her shoes. “Sorry, I didn’t mean…” she shakes her head. “I just wanted to...I’m gonna go.”

“Don’t.”

She pauses.

“Don’t do that,” Peeta says turning over and sitting up. “Don’t run off. Please.”

Katniss lets her shoes drop back to the floor.

“Come here,” Peeta says.

She shakes her head no. “I want to stay on the chair.”

“Why?”

“If I come over there you’re going to touch me.”

“Katniss.”

“If you touch me right now, I’m not going to be able to do this,” she says.

“Do what?”

“Talk to you the way that I need to talk to you.”

“Okay,” Peeta says grabbing his pillows to place behind him. “What do you want to talk about?”

“I don’t…” Katniss bounces her leg. “Hold on,” she says taking out the bobby pins holding her bun together, placing them on the window sill, and pulling out her hair bow. She sweeps the waves of her hair over her shoulder and braids it quickly tying off the end to secure it.

“You’ve got nimble fingers.”

“What,” she asks, trying not to fidget.

“Your hands,” Peeta says. “I…,” he trails off, running a hand down the nape of his neck and looking away from her. “You always seem so sure of what you’re doing.”

“Not anymore. Not since…”

“The Games,” he says turning back to Katniss and dropping his arm into his lap.

“I wasn’t saying that to make you feel bad.”

“You did earlier.”

“I don’t want to talk about that.”

“Katniss, we have to--”

She cuts him off. “I don’t like who we are when we fight,” Katniss says, the words rushed as she works to get them out. “There’s this deafening roar and everything...everything zeroes down to the two of us.” She gestures between them. “I can barely think when it’s happening; I just act and you…” Katniss swallows. “You threw a statue at me, Peeta.”

When he moves to speak Katniss holds up her hand, silencing him. “I know that you were angry. I was angry when I shoved you but I don’t want to be those people.”

“I’m sorry,” Peeta says, his remorse bleeding into his voice. “Katniss, you have to know that I would never intentionally hurt you. I--”

“Don’t lie to me,” she says grasping her skirt.

“I’m not.”

“You are,” Katniss says firmly, hands aching but unable to release the fabric her fingers are clutching. “I told you that you’re important to me, and you said that you must not be important enough. When I said you didn’t love me, you said that I was right because I’d rather be cold and alone than need anyone else. You didn’t apologize at the ruins because you meant what you said.”

It’s quiet until Peeta admits, “Yes, I did.”

“Because I hurt you,” she says. “We keep hurting each other.”

“How do we stop?”

“Cinna has suggested that we talk to each other.”

Peeta’s small incredulous laugh makes Katniss’ lips twitch upward. She pulls her feet back up onto the chair and rests her chin against her knees.

“He thinks it’s that simple,” Peeta asks.

“I don’t know. Maybe.”

Peeta pulls the covers up a little higher. “You’re important to me, too,” he says. “If you’d told me any other time that’s what I would have said.”

Katniss warms at his words. She hugs her knees closer. “When it’s just us and you touch me, it’s hard to focus,” she confesses. “There’s this flutter in my stomach, and I...that is not something I’ve felt often but you touch me and there it is.”

Peeta’s breathing picks up a bit. “I feel that, too,” he says in a rush. “I didn’t think...you know, sometimes you look at me and it knocks me out? I’ve never felt like this before. I don’t know how to be around you and not want to be there for you.”

“You hid it well,” Katniss says and immediately regrets it. “Peeta, I’m sorry. Please--”

“Hiding is my specialty,” he says. “But I don’t want to do that with you. Not anymore.”

“Okay.”

“So friends?”

“You asked that before, and I said yes but considering everything that’s expected of us, I don’t see how we can be. It’s always going to have to be more than that.”

“Katniss, will you come closer if I promise not to touch you?”

She hesitates before nodding.

“Then come here.”

Katniss walks over to the bed and kneels, so Peeta doesn’t have to stretch his neck to talk to her.

“Forget about everything that's expected of us for a minute,” he says. “I’m really asking here. Do you think at the core of everything we can be friends?”

“You want one real thing,” she says, catching on.

“Yeah,” Peeta says, smiling slightly. “I think we deserve at least one thing that’s ours.”

Unable to tamp down on the urge, Katniss brushes Peeta’s hair out of his face. “I’d like that,” she says returning his smile. “One real thing that’s ours.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Feedback is appreciated. If you'd like to drop me a line on tumblr, I'm [asoldierwitch](http://asoldierwitch.tumblr.com/).


	6. through the dirty lens of a broken smile

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New year, new chapter! Hello, it's been quite awhile. Hopefully, all of you are doing well. As usual, I have my friend Ikea to thank for holding my hand throughout writing this chapter. I'm happy with how it turned out, so I hope you enjoy it.
> 
> chapter title from [Wild Horses (Acoustic)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Tl9LElqpFOQ) by Bishop Briggs

Katniss pushes the brim of her sunhat out of her face and ignores the pointed look Effie sends her way. “You're lucky I still have it on,” she grumbles under her breath, sure to keep her voice low so none of the reporters pick up what she said.

Peeta, however, hears and ducks to hide his laugh in her shoulder. 

The soft, staccato huffs spark across Katniss’ skin reminding her of the cave; she tries not to squirm. Six months ago, Peeta’s sleepy snuffle ghosting across her neck felt much the same. 

A shiver threatens to travel down Katniss’ spine at the memory of his hands tucked under her shirt for warmth and his body--bigger and broader than her own--pressed against her.

Before the Games, Katniss’ body had only been acquainted with the feel of her sister’s fingers cradled in hers at night. A shared sleeping space was familial, a marker of trust and a bond. Allowing herself to succumb to tiredness in the presence of another meant something to Katniss. It’s how she knew Gale was her friend. They could fall asleep in the lull between hunting tasks, and she wouldn’t feel the need to berate herself for letting her guard down. They look after one another, it’s what they do, and yet Katniss has never known more than the press of his shoulder against hers in sleep. 

The same cannot be said for Peeta whose body she knows more intimately than she does his mind. Their touches are deliberate; they serve a purpose; they drive forward the story they’re selling to survive. A story they owe their lives to and one whose debt they may never finish paying no matter how many times they touch for the entertainment of strangers. 

_From a cave to a bench_ , Katniss thinks. _A game is a game no matter the location._ She sighs, resisting the urge to rip her hat off and throw it like a discus. “I look ridiculous.”

Peeta perches his chin on her shoulder. “No, you don't,” he says, subtly jerking his head toward the reporter in a massive hat. It looks like it’s meant to emulate the style worn in the farming districts but with the added bonus of being able to hold 40 gallons of milk. “He does.”

Katniss laughs, turning her head and trying to muffle the sound with her hand. 

“Darlings, please,” Effie says a little exasperated, hands on her hips. “We’re supposed to be deciding what to do next.”

“Sorry,” Peeta says, straightening and leaning away from Katniss. She’d miss the warmth but he keeps his hand on hers, their pinkies entwined and directly in sight of the cameras.

Effie looks hopefully at the man walking in their direction but he simply bids them a good morning and keeps heading down the street. “Surely, there is someone willing to stop long enough to give us a word or two on the district,” she says, voice laden with her frustration.

Katniss doubts it. The people of District 10 are about as gloomy and downtrodden as the overcast sky. More polite to her than most of 12’s townsfolk, they pass with a nod or a tip of their hat in greeting, but with exception to the few children she’s seen, not a single person will look her in the eyes.

“What is there to say,” Haymitch asks, adjusting his tie and turning his back to the camera filming him. “They’ve got cows, pigs, and chickens. Panem’s meat mostly comes from here. Does anyone want to write a piece on a butcher?”

His question is met with silence along with the twin glares of Portia and Effie. “Hey,” he says with a shrug of his shoulders. “I’m not the one who made the rules. Mayor Sterling said we weren’t to ask his citizens any questions about the district.”

“If he would have just given us leave to conduct the tour as we would have had he deigned to join us--”

Haymitch raises his eyebrow. “Effie, one of his cows is in labor.”

“Exactly,” Effie says with a bit of a shrill. “A cow! He has put us off for a cow!”

“Well, technically,” Cinna says from behind his phone as he films the townsfolk go about their business. “He put us off for a calf.”

“Cinna!”

“What,” he asks, moving out the way of Portia’s swat. “He’s bringing new life into the world. I’m sure we can find something to do that falls within the parameters of his instructions.”

“We should just call it a wrap,” Jules says, slipping his tablet into his bag and signalling for his camera to stop filming. “There’s no story here, and I’ve seen dead people more lively than this town.”

“We can’t ‘call it a wrap,’ Jules,” Effie says. “There’s always coverage of a District town during a tour.”

“This tour has been taken 73 times, L-Trinket. We’ll cobble together some footage from previous years, insert your two Victors here and there, and call it a decent job, alright?”

“No, not alright,” Effie says as her face begins to flush.

Katniss is sure she caught his slip as well. Jules almost called her ‘Lu’...again. 

“It’s going to have to be,” he says. “We’re only two stops into this tour and already you can’t seem to catch a break. First it was the scrapped meet and greet with the Tributes’ families from District 11 followed by a mass evacuation that you won’t give us any information on, now--”

“Keep your voice down,” Effie grits through her teeth, stepping into his space, and looking to see if any of the townsfolk have slowed in their pace to overhear. “Speaking of what happened in District 11 while in the presence of those without the proper security clearance is prohibited. You were given all the information that falls within your purview. Nothing more and nothing less. The situation is being handled, Mr. Titus.”

Jules clears his throat and takes a step back. “And what about this situation?”

“Excuse me?”

He smirks, trying to regain ground. “You said there’s always coverage of a District town during a tour, but we don’t have coverage of District 11 because you pissed off their mayor.” 

Jules clears his throat and leans toward Effie to whisper, “Pardon me, former mayor.” With a smirk, he straightens and continues, “And it looks like we won’t have any of District 10 either. You know what we’ve never had? A Capitol Mentor who can’t deliver but it seems you may be the exception to the rule, Ms. _Trinket._ ”

Katniss shifts uncomfortably. She doesn’t know what Jules’ problem is but he’s starting to become a thorn in her side. 

With a tug on his hand, Katniss catches Peeta’s attention and presses closer to him. “Do you think they have a bakery here,” she asks, loud enough for the group to hear, in hopes that it will cut the tension.

“Probably,” he says just as loud, catching on. “Why?”

Katniss bites her lip and looks down, notices the shift of Cinna’s feet and turns to him expecting to see his camera turned toward her and is not disappointed.

“Peeta’s family makes the best pastries in District 12,” she says before turning back to Peeta. “But I’ve never had some that weren’t made by the Mellarks.” She laughs. “Except for the Capitol’s of course but it wouldn’t be fair to count those.”

Peeta narrows his eyes playfully. “Are you questioning my baking skills?”

Katniss shakes her head biting into her smile. “No,” she says. “Just your standing as the best pastry chef I know.”

“That sounds like a challenge.”

Katniss smirks. “That’s because it is.”

“Oh, you’re on,” Peeta says, pulling Katniss with him as he stands and quickly stops a woman about to pass them. He asks for directions to the bakery if they have one which she provides once her shock at being spoken to wears off.

“Down the street and on the left,” he repeats with a nod, looking a lot like a puppy with a gleam in his eyes as he takes off, Katniss in tow. 

The others scramble to catch up.

“That was nice of you,” Peeta whispers.

“He was being annoying,” Katniss says trying to brush the comment off.

“And you were being nice.”

“If Effie succeeds, then we succeed.”

Peeta hums. “Plus, Jules is an ass who talks too much.”

Katniss laughs, loud and bright, making Peeta’s eyes crinkle in the corners as he looks down at her.

The door chimes as they enter the bakery. The smell of sugar is in the air but just like the rest of town, the place is dreary. Cakes and pastries line the case but they’re all done up in white frosting and decorations. The only pops of color come from the fruit present in the some of the desserts.

“Strike one,” Peeta says a little smug.

Katniss flinches, and Peeta feels it.

“What,” he asks, looking down at her in concern.

She opens her mouth to say her dress is sleeveless and there’s a chill in here but the thought of Cinna’s words from yesterday stop her, _You don’t have to do everything alone._

The door chimes again as the rest of their group enters.

Katniss stands up on her toes. “I’ll tell you later,” she says before kissing Peeta on the cheek and pulling him toward the counter. 

Peeta squeezes her hand in answer before letting go and dinging the bell by the cash register.

“Yeah, I heard you when you came in,” says someone in the back of the shop, out of sight. The voice is gruff but young. “Give me a second.”

A boy around their age comes around the corner in the back, wiping his hands on a towel, with his head down. He’s about as broad and stocky as Peeta but shorter and tanned by the sun.

_Guess District 10 doesn’t always look so grey then_ , Katniss thinks.

The boy swallows when he looks up and registers who they are. He mutters a curse under his breath before whispering, “Of all days to be left alone at the shop.”

He swings his towel to rest on his shoulder. “Uh, welcome to 10’s Bakery. How can I help you?”

Peeta smiles wide and greets him, arm coming to rest against the counter. His posture is relaxed and open. His voice friendly and non-threatening. 

Katniss has heard Haymitch refer to this as Peeta’s charm offensive which sounds ridiculous to her even with its accuracy. To her, an offensive move is physical, but Peeta’s involves words and talking his way in and out of trouble.

“My friend here,” Peeta says nodding to Katniss. “Has never had any of your desserts.” He pitches his voice lower as if he and the boy are going to share a secret and says, “She doesn’t get out you see.”

Katniss huffs in offense and shoves Peeta’s shoulder, playing along.

Peeta laughs and grabs her hand, pulling it around his waist and placing it on his hip. He slings an arm around her shoulder, thumb rubbing against her skin. 

“So,” Peeta continues. “What’s the best thing you have?”

The boy gulps, eyes moving away from Peeta and Katniss and onto the cameras with their glowing red lights. “Um…”

Katniss wills him to look back to them. _Come on. Come on._ But the boy is stuck like a deer caught in the glow of a headlight. 

Effie clears her throat. “If the press could step outside please.”

Katniss doesn’t hear them budge. Her hand grips the side of Peeta’s shirt.

Peeta leans to whisper in her ear, nose brushing against her hair. “Breathe, Kat.”

She pulls back slightly, eyes wide. _He’s never called me that before._

“Step outside or you will not have access to this story,” Effie threatens. “I will release it myself and all you will have are my Victors’ backs as they talk to a shock-stricken young man.” 

“You can't do that,” says one of the reporters.

“I can, and I will, if you do not step outside. Now.”

Katniss can hear the reporters grumbling as they exit--Cinna and Portia follow after them promising to give them some shots for their b-roll--but she’s still stuck on Peeta.

He gives her a small smile before tipping his head back to the boy who looks like he’s about to fall over.  
 _Right_ , she thinks. _Speechless still needs to come back from wherever he went._

“What’s your name,” Haymitch asks walking up to the counter and standing next to Katniss.

The boy blinks a few times before turning to Haymitch. “Gra--Graham, sir.”

“Oh, manners. Good,” Effie says with a grin. She comes to stand next to Peeta and sticks her hand out for a shake. “Effie Trinket, Capitol Mentor.”

Graham shakes her hand. He’s still a little dazed. “Hello, M'am.”

“Son,” Haymitch begins. “I get it but, we don’t really have time for introductions and pleasantries.”

“That’s okay. I know who you are, Mr. Abernathy.” Graham looks back to Peeta and Katniss. “I know who they are, too.”

Effie claps her hands. “Excellent. Then you understand the odds have just fallen in your favor. Graham, how do you feel about making 10’s Bakery a household name?”

The boy looks back and forth between them all. “Um...sure?”

It takes Effie twenty minutes to put together a mini-production team in 10’s Bakery. They all have their marching orders tailored to keep in mind Mayor Sterling’s gag on the press’ ability to ask the citizens of 10 any questions about their district. Questions toward Peeta and Katniss, however, are fair game which Katniss is sure the press will take full advantage of.

Huddled in the corner, Peeta and Katniss are tucked out of the way as Effie and the reporters mic the kitchen for better sound quality and fix the lighting to their liking. 

Graham is standing next to Haymitch looking a little overwhelmed.

“I don't know how he's going to make it through a baking segment with you, Peeta.”

“He’ll do fine,” Peeta says. “Can't be any worse than you during our first taped interview.”

Katniss takes her eyes off Graham to glare at Peeta. “I did fine.”

He nods. “Yes, after you managed to stop scowling at the camera.”

“The camera deserved scowling at.”

“Right, Kat,” Peeta says with a chuckle.

Katniss watches the corners of his lips push up into a smile as he looks down at her. It makes his eyes sparkle with humor. She tries to will the flush from creeping onto her cheeks but she can feel the flash of heat course through her body.

Head tipped down, gaze on the floor, Katniss asks, “What’s with Kat all the sudden?”

Peeta apologizes and all the joy present in his voice evaporates as he tells her that it was a slip and it won’t happen again.

Katniss feels the dip in her heart and the sharp kick of its beat. Her head shoots up faster than she would like in response to his disappointment. “No, I…,” she starts, hand absentmindedly fiddling with the ribbon at her waist. “I was just...I don’t mind.”

“Really,” Peeta asks, head dipped to try to catch her gaze which has left his again.

She nods. The nickname Kat has always been reserved for Prim and her father. Her mother flinches whenever Prim uses it but says nothing. Gale has never tried, choosing instead to come up with his own name for her. Madge called her Kat once but it brought a screeching halt to their conversation like nails on a chalkboard. Everyone else just calls her Katniss or Everdeen. 

“Katniss…”

She looks up at Peeta. “I don’t mind,” she says again, meaning it.

“But?”

Cinna’s words return to her, _Try talking to Peeta_.

Katniss lets out a shaky breath. “That’s what my dad used to call me.”

Peeta’s eyes widen slightly, and Katniss can see the apology swimming in their blue depths. But before he can say the words, she shakes her head.

“It’s okay,” she says. “You didn’t know.”

“Still. I won’t call you that again.”

“But I want you to,” Katniss blurts surprising herself. “It was…” she trails off trying to find the words. Peeta calling her ‘Kat’ didn’t bother her. The utterance feeling ‘right’ may be too strong of a word but it had felt warm like the sling of his arm over her shoulder or the pad of his thumb rubbing across the back of her hand. Her father and sister’s use of the nickname made her feel loved. Peeta using it felt like a caress. “It was nice.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes,” she affirms. “Just…” Katniss takes a deep breath. “I want to keep it just between us.”

Peeta leans to whisper in her ear, “Okay, Kat.”

When he pulls back, Katniss has the urge to kiss him like she did in the snow, like she did on the steps of the District 11 Court House. The compulsion to kiss Peeta runs through her body like electricity through a wire. She feels like the moment is suspended as if it is just the two of them in this kitchen. It’s not like being in the woods. If she had Prim’s imagination, she’d say it’s like being on the storied island of District 4. Away from the mainland, surround by the ocean, unmoored.

Haymitch shatters the moment.“Sweetheart. Kid. You ready?”

Peeta speaks first, pulling his gaze from Katniss’ and plastering a smile to his face. “For a bake-off? Haymitch, do you even know me?”

Haymitch snorts. “Confident. Good,” he says looking between the two of them with his eyebrow raised. “Though not what I was asking. Don’t deflect.”

“We know what we’re doing, Haymitch,” Katniss says, pushing away the urge to put space between her and Peeta. She wasn't doing anything wrong but under Haymitch’s scrutinizing gaze she feels caught like a child stealing a cookie from the seller’s stall.

“Do you now?” Haymitch rocks back on the heels of his feet and places his hands on his hips, pushing his blazer back.

“We’re in love,” Peeta says using his fingers to tick off the story they’re selling. “It’s sickening. I’m not allowed to make any baking puns. We’re bright. We’re cheery. We’re so dumb in love that we don’t see the uprising around us--”

“Kid,” Haymitch says with a disapproving frown.

“Yeah, I know.” 

Peeta turns to Katniss and says, “I’m going to go see if I can get Graham to loosen up a bit,” leaving her with a small smile and a brief touch to her shoulder.

Katniss watches him go.

“Effie,” Haymitch says, not bothering to turn around to address her properly. “Katniss and I are going to step out for a moment.”

Katniss opens her mouth to ask Haymitch, “What for,” but he's already attempting to usher her from the room before she can utter a word.

“Don't be too long,” Effie says from the other side of the room, motioning for two press members to move a light fixture a little more to the left.

When the side door to the bakery closes firmly behind them, Katniss whirls on Haymitch. “What the hell?”

“Easy,” Haymitch says sliding his hands into his pockets calmly as if he didn't all but manhandle her out of the building with no explanation and no time to get a word in without making a scene. “We need to talk.”

Katniss’ heart stops for a moment. _Did something happen?_ “About what?”

Her mind runs through the possibilities. _Maybe ‘strike one’ wasn't a warning. Maybe it was threat. Maybe Snow did something to teach me a lesson, to get me to behave._

“You and the kid.”

The gears of Katniss’ mind grind to a halt. Her eyes narrow as she takes in Haymitch’s stance. His feet are planted, legs apart, and he’s standing in front of the side door as if it's the only exit open to her.

“What about us,” she asks, beginning to feel cornered despite the open ends of the alley they are standing in.

“You need to be careful.”

“We are.”

“I'm talking about you.”

“I am being careful,” Katniss says irritation slipping further into her voice. She can’t be any more careful than she is already being. Her mouth hurts from all the smiling she’s been doing constantly aware of the cameras and the reporters watching. Her cheeks are fatigued. The only thing she’s not tired of is Peeta’s reassuring touches. Since their conversation last night, Katniss has let herself lean more into his support, conscious of their agreement to really try at being friends. Friends shoulder things together, she’s been doing her best to actually let him take on the burden of this charade with her and not on her own, but if she’s made to try any harder, she’s going to snap.

Haymitch steps closer, peering down at her. “Are you?”

“What is this about, Haymitch?”

“You watching yourself with Peeta.”

“What?”

Haymitch runs a frustrated hand over his head. “I saw you sneaking out of his room this morning.”

Katniss stiffens, the memory of the morning flashing into focus as her eyes widen in surprise.

_Early morning sunlight trickles through the glass pane gently coaxing her into waking. She blinks once, twice before abruptly sitting up._

_Peeta stirs with a sleepy huff before snuggling further into his pillow. Had she still been lying with her head against his mattress, their noses would have touched. Brushed like they did in the snow._

_She shivers at the thought despite the warmth that spreads through her body as she remembers the look Peeta had given her in the snow, surprise melting into soft pleasure as he took her in._

_She shakes her head, pushing the image away as she stands, and winces at the twinge of pain that shoots through her knees. That’s what I get for falling asleep on the floor, she thinks._

_Quietly, she makes her way out but not before taking one last look at Peeta._

_His hand is open as if waiting for hers to return to its hold as it had been last night. He’s sleep mushed, hair in disarray, arm thrown across a pillow, covers kicked partially to the side. He looks like a lazy morning. She finds herself wanting to go back and settle her knees onto the hardwood floor, her skirts blanketing across her legs as she rests her cheek against his bed and lives in this uncomplicated moment. Just the two of them asleep, unaware of the world and all it will continue to demand of them._

Haymitch’s hard-soled shoe dragging across the ground as he steps toward her snaps Katniss out of her memory. 

“Sweetheart,” he says, eyes softening. “I’m not judging. I promise. I just want you to be careful.”

“Nothing happened.”

“Katniss--”

“Nothing happened, Haymitch,” Katniss says, her voice echoing in the alleyway. She tries desperately to hold onto the anger bubbling to the surface and push it down but it’s to no avail. _Can’t I have anything that’s mine_ , she wonders, fists balling at the thought. _Must everything I do be seen by someone?_

“Okay,” he says, making a placating gesture with his hands. “Okay. Look, I’m sorry. I don’t like talking about this anymore than you do.”

“Then why are we talking about it?”

“Because we have to!”

“No, we don’t! We don’t have to talk about it because there’s nothing to talk about.” And there isn’t. They fell asleep, that’s all that happened. It doesn’t matter that they talked well into the night or that she watched Peeta fight to stay awake even though sleep was always going to win the fight. Katniss had only meant to watch him for a little bit longer. At rest, peace fell over his face, and she’d been captivated by it. Too captivated, she realizes now. 

“For the love of…” Haymitch takes a breath. “Katniss, all I'm saying is that if something ever does happen just make sure it's what you want before you go there with Peeta.”

“Go where?”

“Don’t play dumb with me, I'm much more skilled at it than you.”  
Katniss is so tense, if she had hackles they’d be raised. “There’s nowhere to go with Peeta besides where Snow tells me to go.”

“There are plenty of places to go before Snow tells you to do anything.”

“Really,” she asks, arms spread as she looks up and down the alleyway. “Where Haymitch? My life is no longer mine. You said as much when this tour first started.”

“You know that’s not what I’m talking about, Katniss.”

“Then stop dancing around the subject, Haymitch. Say what you have to say.” 

Katniss wishes she could take those words back but they’re out now. She steels herself for his reply, her legs are on fire with the urge to run but there is nowhere to go but back inside. To leave now and wander the streets of 10 until she finds her way back to the mayor’s house would be a mistake even if it’s exactly what she wants to do.

“Fine,” he says, stepping in front of her and lowering his voice. “You may want to pretend that boy doesn’t love you, but I know you know better than that.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” she says looking away. _He doesn’t love me; he can’t._

Haymitch scoffs. “I don't know what I'm talking about? Okay, Katniss.”

“What do you want from me, Haymitch,” Katniss asks, desperate to be done with this conversation the same way she’s desperate for her breathing to return to normal and for her body to stop feeling like it’s going to fly apart. _Like the vase I threw_ , she thinks. _Shattered across the train tracks, broken before the world._

“Nothing,” he says. “I don’t want anything from you.”

“Everyone wants something from me.”

“Well, I don’t,” Haymitch says firmly. “I want things _for_ you. Namely your safety and for you to be careful not just with Peeta but with yourself.”

“Well,” she says with a sniff. “I’m already doing that.”

Haymitch sighs. “Sweetheart, I’m only going to say this once so I want you to listen.” He waits until she’s looking at him before he continues. “ _This_ part. The _feelings_ part. That’s not a game. It’s not in the Capitol’s hands. You don’t get a choice in how you live but when it comes to what you want... _who_ you want, that choice is still yours.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Katniss--”

She holds up her hand, silencing him. “No, Haymitch. I don’t know why I have to keep telling you this but what I _want_ doesn’t matter. How I _feel_ doesn’t matter. If it did, I’d be home with my sister.” 

_If it did_ , she thinks, _my relationship with Gale wouldn’t be used as a weapon against me. If it did, Peeta and I would be...well, I don’t know what we’d be but whatever it is it’d make sense._

“So, stop,” Katniss says. “It doesn’t matter. I don’t matter.” I haven’t since the mine collapsed and took my father. “My family matters. So does Gale’s, so does Peeta’s. That’s it. That is all that does.”

Silence settles between them and it’s the look on Haymitch’s face that makes her move. It’s a mixture of sadness and something a damn sight too close to pity. 

Katniss walks past Haymitch and back into the bakery. She returns Effie’s smile when she spots her even though she knows that it’s not going to reach her eyes.

Effie gives her an odd look and walks over. “You okay, darling?”

She smiles again just as false. “Yes.”

Effie hums and rubs a hand down her back. “You don’t have to smile for me, dear, if you don’t want to. It’s okay. Come.” She pulls over a stool. “You sit here and rest. We’ll be done setting up soon and then we'll come over and light you properly. Okay?”

“Okay,” Katniss says pointedly ignoring Haymitch who just walked back into the kitchen. She focuses on Peeta who is midlaugh with a blushing Graham beaming at the floor. Her eyes follow the path of Peeta’s hand as it travels over his hair, his sleeve pulling with the motion. When his eyes light on her, she neither waves nor mouths ‘hi’ just continues looking as Haymitch’s words play over in her mind.

\------------

_Sugar Sweet Bakery Retreat  
Jules Titus, Capitol Magazine_

_Gems, do I have a treat for you!_

_As you know, we are slogging our way through the Lower Districts. Shamefully mandatory but, according to my editor, a necessary piece of the Victory Tour even if it is the certified worst part._

_In any case, there I was bored, watching terribly bland fashion pass by--Effie Trinket was attempting to cobble together a tour ruined by a monstrosity known as a baby cow or a calf as Cinna called it--when, like the dove she is, Katniss Everdeen piped up about wanting to visit a bakery._

_Before my heels were ready, we were off down the street in search of one. The ever lovely and handsome Peeta Mellark lead the way with his love by his side, infectious laughter falling from her lips. Adorable, truly. Though that was only a fraction of the sweet affection I would witness. You see, with the help of a rather beige looking woman, we made our way to 10’s bakery. It's nothing to write home about, quaint though it is, but the strapping young man working there could rival Peeta for your hearts, Gems._

_Graham, the baker boy, is 5’7” of district born cuteness. He blushed the whole way through his introduction to this year’s Victors and nearly fainted at the prospect of the baking challenge Peeta suggested. But charming as ever, Peeta convinced the boy to participate and when I say the flour went flying...well, see for yourselves._

Peeta dons a smile and an apron. “Hi everyone,” he says. “I'm Peeta Mellark and today I am a special guest in the kitchen of 10’s Bakery.” He sweeps his hand to the right. “Katniss Everdeen is a special guest on their stool.”

The camera pans to Katniss who is indeed on a stool, her blue lace dress drapes over her legs. Her sunhat with the matching large bow rests primly on the counter beside her. She rolls her eyes good naturally and sticks out her tongue in jest.

From a different angle, another camera catches the humor that spreads across Peeta’s face at her gesture before camera 1 resumes its primary coverage of him.

The boy shakes his head and chuckles softly. “Believe me, it's safer for us all for her to be over there.”

“I can cook,” Katniss says off camera.

“Yes,” Peeta replies smile widening in amusement. “But you can't bake and we are in a bakery.”

Camera 2 catches her waving a hand at him and crossing her arms. She's looking off to the side, faux anger on her face warring with the smile that's threatening to come alive on her lips.

“Anyway,” Peeta says pulling his gaze from her and shifting it to the left. “I'd like to introduce Graham Blade, a fellow baker, and the poor man on duty when we blew into his shop like an unexpected wind.”

Camera 3 captures the back view of Graham as he makes his way over to Peeta and then the footage transitions to camera 1 as he takes his place next to him. The contrast between the two is not stark but still it is noticeable. Graham looks like Peeta before he became a Victor complete with a muslin shirt, tan work pants, and an apron that has seen better days. Peeta’s status change is apparent in the quality of his jeans and the vibrance of his dark blue shirt rolled up to his elbows. What has not changed is Peeta himself.

The boy leads Graham into conversation throughout the broadcast as the cameras circle about them with periodic shots of Katniss. His warmth coaxes stories from Graham about his family and upbringing without prompting. Peeta reciprocates, one story causing a peal of laughter to sound off camera. They all turn toward Katniss whose face is flushed as she wipes tears from her eyes.

“That was you,” she asks.

“Guilty,” Peeta says with a sheepish grin and a shrug.

“Your pig nearly took out half the Town’s pageant girls and scared the rest of them half to death.”

“It was an accident.”

“I'm sure,” Katniss says with a smile. “Still it's one of the best things to ever happen on May Day.”

“May Day,” Graham asks, his fingers fiddling with the digital timer in his hands.

“It's the first day in May,” Peeta explains. “There's lots of talk about renewal and replenishing. Some people try to patch up relationships or rectify wrongs. Others see the day as a chance for new beginnings whatever those may be. There's a pageant in the town square where the Lady of May will be chosen. She presides over the dance in the evening, welcoming everyone to begin again in the spring season.”

“Oh, that sounds nice,” Graham says a little awkwardly. He looks into the camera briefly before remembering himself and flushing. After clearing his throat he asks, “Have you two ever been? Together I mean.”

Both Peeta and Katniss say “no” at the same time but it is Peeta who continues on with “but I want to.” He's looking at the counter as he says it, the words soft and genuine.

The camera pans to Katniss who is staring at him, mouth slightly agape before she swallows and looks down, her brown cheeks no longer red with mirth but tinted pink instead.

Two separate cameras capture the intensity that fissures between them when their eyes meet. The moment shatters with the beeping of the timer still held in Graham’s hands.

“Right, the muffins,” Peeta says. “We can't let those burn, Graham, I'll never hear the end of it.”

“I heard that,” Katniss says.

“You were meant to,” Peeta replies turning his back to open the oven and pull out his tray of muffins.

After the pastries cool both boys present a plate to Katniss. She bites into Graham’s apple muffin first, eyes closing with the pleasure of the taste. “That's delicious,” she says after chewing and spearing another bit with her fork for Peeta to try.

Peeta takes the utensil from her hand, their fingers brush. His bite of muffin causes him to close his eyes in pleasure, too. “That is delicious,” he says once he's finished savoring the treat. “Well done, Graham.”

Graham, clearly an easy blusher, is red-faced once again under Peeta’s attention. His whisper of “Thank you” is barely picked up by the microphones stationed around the kitchen. 

“Okay,” Peeta says slapping his hands together and rubbing them quickly. “My turn.”

When Katniss bites into his muffin her eyes widen and then soften as she finishes eating. “Cinnamon spice,” she says with a smile full of secrets.

Peeta nods an affirmative, eyes lingering on her as he watches her take another bite and then set the fork down. “So,” he asks, trailing off, his question obvious in the pause.

Katniss looks between Peeta and Graham before she says, “You, Peeta. It was always going to be you.”

Every camera captures the beatific grin that stretches from corner to corner on Peeta’s face. “Even if I had made mince meat pie?”

Her nose scrunches up in disgust. “Okay, maybe not then, no.”

Peeta laughs quiet and low, the flicker of a memory flashes in his eyes. None of the cameras can decipher its meaning but still it's there as his eyelashes sweep his cheeks and he leans in to take the fork from Katniss to taste his own creation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Feedback is much appreciated. If you'd like to drop me a line you can find me on [@asoldierwitch](https://asoldierwitch.tumblr.com/) over on tumblr. Happy new year!


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